


Accepting Defeat

by debronze



Series: Accepting Defeat Series [1]
Category: Kim Possible (Cartoon)
Genre: (yes I reposted this and yes the title is different), Age Difference, F/M, Hero/Villain, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, kim is 18 from the beginning, not really underage but tagged just incase, previously: little dark age, takes place right after the events of Gorilla Fist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 77,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24651037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debronze/pseuds/debronze
Summary: An admittedly very cliche trope where Kim takes care of an injured Monkey Fist.
Relationships: Monkey Fist/Kim Possible, Monty Fiske/Kim Possible
Series: Accepting Defeat Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036764
Comments: 20
Kudos: 15





	1. A Guest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NoelleAngelFyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoelleAngelFyre/gifts).



> I don't own the characters, but the characters do own me. Enjoy.

Broken.

It’s the only word that comes to mind when she sees his body mangled over the rocks. The vine DNAmy had snapped lay beside him. It was too daring to jump from the height, even more so when he cleverly reached out for the thick green decorating the sides of the waterfall. None of them paid him a second glance, all silently assuming he could take care of himself. But the yelp could be heard even over the roaring of water. Amy standing above, blade in hand. Kim can almost see the excitement on her face, but surely she doesn’t know what waits for her at the bottom.

All of them breathless, seeing blood stain Monkey Fist’s forehead…his skin dangerously pale. All afraid to approach…to touch…to listen for any breath. Even Ron falls oddly silent, struggling not to celebrate the defeat of a man who has proved too reckless and too dangerous. Kim doesn’t spare another moment before asking Wade to deliver a chopper immediately. With the help of Sensei’s powers, the man-monkey is moved safely into the helicopter. The conversation quickly becoming argumentative and tense.

Talks of what to do next.

Prison? Hospital?

No answer to which they all could agree. The man was in bad shape- unable to defend himself from the very thing that did this to him. They were certain that no matter where he goes, she would follow.

Perhaps, she thinks, not everywhere.

It turns into another heated discussion. The concept of bringing an enemy, Ron’s _sworn_ enemy, into her home? The idea was as ridiculous as it sounded. But it was feasible. Her mother, a renowned surgeon, could easily assist with his injuries. The alarm system in which her father had installed? The man wouldn’t stand a chance attempting escape or harm upon anyone living there. And lastly…. _her_.

She was Kim _Possible_ , after all.

And as easy as it was to list those points, it’s hard defending them. She manages, only just as they approach the nearest prison facility. Coordinates are changed, and while Sensei and Yori are dropped off, the duo and their new passenger make way to Middleton where her parents await with both excitement and concern.

Her mother prioritizes the man, equipped with close and trusted colleagues who help get him into their home and begin working right away. Kim learns later that while his injuries are serious, no life threatening surgery is needed. Setting his split tibia is the most invasive procedure they find themselves doing, and carefully tending to the lacerations and fractures that can’t exactly be helped with anything but care and time.

It’s a long evening, and later pushed into night when finally the man is resting in the guest room that is the basement. Still knocked out from the generous dose of drugs, they leave him be. Ron, with much reluctance, had left and even the twins had been tuckered out from the excitement. Leaving just Kim and her parents, tending to coffee in the kitchen and discussing the decision made.

All agreed, it was the right one. For now.

———

The next morning Kim wakes to a disturbance. She’d forgotten all about their guest, alarmed when she realizes where the noise is coming from. Darting downstairs and ready to fight, she sees her father standing over the bed, holding Monkey Fist’s shoulders down with visible restraint as to not further injure the man, and her mother on the opposite side sticking a needle into his arm.

“Get your hands off of me! Agh!” Monkey fist growls while fighting the immense pain that screams across his body. His hair twists in all sorts of directions, his eyes wide and teeth bared. The man had just woken up, and to two strangers ready to stick him with something.

“Calm down, Mr. Fiske. This will help with the pain- we didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Startle me? YOU **_KIDNAPPED_** ME! YOU-.” His eyes find Kim then, and his alerted expression quickly shifts to anger. “ _You_. What did _you_ do?”

Kim’s got him distracted enough for her mother to find a vein and administer the medicine. “Kim saved you. And you should be thankful she did….can’t remember the last time I helped a patient who had fallen the length of a waterfall and survived. There….give that a few minutes to kick in.” She rises then, her father finally releasing him with a genuine smile.

“Not so bad, right? You like eggs? I’ll whip up some breakfast. That shake won’t be easy to keep down without some solid food.”

Monkey Fist looks amusingly floored by the kindness, his face trying to twist into an emotion he’s not quite settled on. Her parents leave, allowing Kim to step forward with a little confidence.

“You have know idea what you’ve done. Taking me here against my will.” The man glares hard, making fists into the blankets covering him waist down. Kim isn’t at all surprised by this reaction. His whole thing has always been about _power_ ….and now that it’s been taken away…

“ _Helped you_ , is the correct phrase. The shape you were in after that fall, none of us can confidently say you’d still be alive otherwise.”

“ _That_ is where you are wrong. I’ve been in far more concerning predicaments and this is ––– AGH!” The moment he shifts to sit up and claim his strength, it is snatched away from him. The pain nearly paralyzing and to his dismay, humiliating. He bites down hard and growls, finding little comfort as he is forced back into the cushions placed thoughtfully beneath him.

Kim smirks, while not overly pleased with his discomfort, it isn’t beneath her to gloat at her decision made upon the chopper. “I think you’ll find there isn’t much I won’t admit to being wrong about, but…in this case? I’ll spare you the ‘ _I told you so_ ’.”

She reaches over, carefully sliding the glass of thick green juice closer to his bedside. A concoction made from her mother, no doubt, packed with nutrients and tastes not even a dog would enjoy. Still she remains carefully out of distance, as she remembers all too well the reach and latch of those hands.

“Not that I’d _ever_ pin you for being ungrateful,” Kim drawls sarcastically, earning a matched dramatic eye roll from the monkey warrior, “But keeping you hidden here? Giving you medical attention and making sure that you’re at _least_ comfortable? Yeah, you can thank my parents for that. Maybe don’t give them reason to second guess themselves….even if I can easily list out plenty.”

“Oh, _please_. I didn’t _ask_ for this. And don’t for one second try to convince me it wasn’t your **_bleeding heart_** that dragged me here. God forbid you walk away feeling … _unheroic_.” Kim’s eyes widen at that, feeling the jab of the accusation hit its intended target. There’s a sudden urge to fight him on that, to push back and clear the image of her he’s muddied in just moments, but she doesn’t.

And his eyes watch her….expecting that reaction…almost delightfully so. She wonders if he’ll be disappointed as she refuses to hand him over another figurative weapon.

“Maybe you’re right. _Or…_ maybe I couldn’t stomach the thought of what I’d find left of you during our next meeting. DNAmy is, above all else, a dedicated _collector_.” Kim flashes a cheeky grin, watching Monkey Fist’s lips twist into a rather unpleasant frown. She doesn’t give him the chance to respond, taking a few steps back before turning and heading to the stairs.

One step up and she’s already stopping, turning back with a far more sinister glaze to emerald eyes. Monkey Fist narrows his own, ultimately unprepared for what is to come but expecting it nonetheless.

“Everything you need is in this basement. The moment you even _think_ about stepping outside of it without invitation is the moment you’ve lost all privilege in my home. And my family…the ones graciously protecting you…are **_off limits_**. I’d really rather not throw you back into the hands of your…. _colleague_ ….but I won’t think twice about it if those requirements aren’t met.” Kim’s lips curl slightly, a pressing grin that promises far more than its intent. “Drink up, Lord Fiske.”

She can almost hear the thick of his accent deep and bellowing inside of him. Kim quietly admits how good it felt to get out the words without fear of physical retaliation, and not soon after considers how much that sounds like…. _him_.

It doesn’t take long for her to shake off the self inflicted comparison, and she heads back to the comfort of her room where she feels anything but. Her mind races, as if she can hear him breathing three floors beneath her. A criminal, and more than that. _Him_. Cunning, manipulative, dangerous. **_Wounded_**.

———

Sleep is never quite found that night, even if a long conversation with Ron aids her in relaxing just enough. Her intent is to be up before her parents, eagerly sitting at the table with coffee brewing nearby- a sight that surprises her mother who begins the chopping of both fruit and vegetable in preparation for their guest’s breakfast. Kim insists on joining her to bring it to him, if not to confirm that he is still very much there, she fears her family may fall susceptible to the man.

But her mother refuses. Insists that she eat her own breakfast. That she’d been helping patients all of her life, and this is no exception. Kim wants to protest desperately, but is only left sitting with teeth threatening to puncture her lip as she waits for her mother’s return which comes…sooner than expected.

“He’s still asleep. Looks like he gave into those pain meds.” She’s both relieved and surprised at the news. Perhaps more so surprised that the man would allow himself that vulnerability. Then again…she had seen those wounds. The purpling of his skin and blood seeping through bandages. What choice did he have?

Getting through the school day is just as difficult, and time seems to be going by painfully slow. It’s almost impossible to focus on her work, her friends, or the new routine she’d be leading. The moment she arrives home a breath of relief is breathed in, but just as soon the tension comes swarming in as it is let out. She doesn’t think twice before dropping her bag and heading down into the basement. She’s not certain what she thinks she will see but, the sight of the man sitting up with a mouth full of grapes isn’t it.

He glances up at her, his chewing slowed. A quiet radio can be heard nearby, but all lights and even the television remain off. Leaving only the sliding glass doors the room’s only source of light from the outside.

“Is cheer practice over already?” Monkey Fist greets with an overly sarcastic tone. “How very dreadful. You’ve now resorted to my presence due to ….boredom? Or ….lack of _vigilance_?”

Kim sighs, walking further into the room and quietly surveying anything out of place. She finds nothing.

“Try: making sure the evil man monkey living in your basement is behaving.”

“Now, Kimberly….is that _really_ how you want to refer to your guest? Impoliteness is not a good look for the role model of girls everywhere.” She can hear the smile in his voice, but when she turns to look at him, it’s gone. What’s left is a tongue cleaning up whatever juices were left on his lips from his treat.

“Right, and I’m going to take style advice from… _you_.” She clicks her tongue and shakes her head, getting just close enough to observe the bandages. Already freshly applied. He grimaces as he leans back into the pillows, his hand resting over his bandaged chest.

“It’s _merely_ an observation. It’s the most I can do within the confines of this room. I’d _happily_ find an alternative, but everything else is…. _off limits_ , as you say.”

“Can’t be alone with your thoughts? Sounds like progression.”

“Acting like you know _nothing_ of the art I live by is just sheer **_ignorance_**. I learned to be alone with my thoughts a long time ago. Doesn’t mean I can’t be _bored_.”

It’s clear that her mother has beaten her to the punch here. More medication and food is sitting nearby, along with folded clothes that are surely her father’s. She can’t help but feel blood boiling at the idea of him being alone with one of her family members. He can’t be trusted.

“You _practice_ your art, but _live_ by a violence that doesn’t come from it. Time and time again you exercise it against anyone who stands in your way. Don’t talk to me about ignorance.” Kim retorts sternly, her eyes narrowing over at the man who sighs dramatically.

“Kim Possible. Therapist, hero, or privileged _know it all_? The list continues to grow.”

“Privileged? Laughable coming from you **_Lord_** Monty Fiske.”

Monkey Fist shifts a hardened gaze towards the girl, his jaw set tight.

“Privilege comes in all shapes and sizes. Some lack that of wealth, while others may lack that of family. Look around you. Your parents…your siblings….they care for you in ways many have _never_ known. Don’t you think if everyone had what you had, there would be more cheerleaders running around with fumbling sidekicks? Grow _up_ , Kimberly.”

She….doesn’t expect that. It has left her stunned, and not because she is wholeheartedly surprised at the reality, but that Monkey First was very much so giving way to his own personal experience. But that waivers quickly, as he won’t allow for her to linger on the idea.

“You live with a _rocket scientist_ and a _brain surgeon_. Surely you’ve literature stored somewhere in this place. I’ll take **_anything_** at this point.”

Still internally rattled at sharp words, Kim swallows and straightens back up. She won’t let him win this easy.

“While I’m not thrilled at the idea of you learning how to work with brains or rockets….I’ll consider it.”

———

Ron arrives later in the evening, a cast of fear and nerve caping over him even as he stands at the front door. He wasn’t thrilled about the decision to help Monkey Fist, and hasn’t been able to remain quiet about it. He even refuses to speak a word until they are, in his mind, safe distance away…right at the top of the house in Kim’s room where fingers pull at his own hair.

“This is not a good idea, KP. This is Monkey Fist we’re talking about! Remember? The guy who is constantly trying to kill us and take over the world with his…. _monkeys_?!”

Kim lets out a long sigh, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of her nose. She wonders if Ron truly doesn’t believe that she hasn’t constantly been thinking about those very facts. Of course she has. It eats at her with every waking moment.

“Ron, I know. But…we couldn’t just leave him there.”

“Of course we could have! Kim, he isn’t some helpless civilian. The guys is a cockroach. Finds a way out of everything! He would have been fine without us.” Kim frowns at that. Ron isn’t wrong. Still, she can’t deny that leaving him would have been the wrong thing to do.

“Ron…his back is fractured. Leg is in even _worse_ shape…and the rest of him? He’s lucky to be alive. Saving him is what separates us ** _from_** him.” She shifts onto her side, watching as Ron paces the room, chewing at nails and fixated on the floor beneath him.

“He gets better, and then what? What happens when this guy can move again? Are we just going to release him to terrorize more people?”

“Ron…of course not. By then we can get him into the hands of the authorities. But as of right now…” She sighs, sitting up and bringing her knees to her chest, “The decision is made. And we just deal with it.”

Ron stops and stares at her, the gears turning in his head before he turns his back and heads to the the steps of her loft.

“I’m going down there to set things straight, KP. I’ll let him know just where his place is–.”

She leaps to stop him, tugging back on his shirt that reels him away from the stairs.

“Ron, pull it together. You really think seeing _you_ is going to keep anything civil? You’ll only agitate him, and right now….well…I _think_ we’re okay.”

“You _think_ , KP? Thinking is what he’ll use against you. Thinking is just a distraction for him.”

Kim sighs, strangely proud of such a knowledgable and confident thing for Ron to say. She eases her grip and manages a small smile.

“You’re right. But…just trust me, okay? Now…can we put on this movie or what?”

He obliges reluctantly, but is quick to lose himself in the moment without pressing the topic further. They watch the movie through, happily snacking on a multitude of things meanwhile. Later, Kim walks Ron downstairs, holding a lingering conversation before seeing him off. She closes the door and feels that wash of heavy air drape over her shoulders. Emerald eyes look left and see their bookcase poking out from behind a wall. Walking over, she considers his request, but doesn’t pluck out just anything.

One title does stand out to her, and so she pulls it from the row and makes her way downstairs. Always a tepid trip…uncertainty waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. She’s pleasantly surprised to find the man….sleeping. His arm hanging off of the bed while the other rests crooked beside him. The blankets have been shoved off, and the wrinkles of the sheets beneath prove of his earlier discomfort. She notes the warmth of the basement, stopping by the thermostat first to cool it down.

There is no prying her eyes away from the sight of him. Almost… _peaceful_ looking. She finally sees the full extent of his injuries. Skin is hard to come by when everything seems to be wrapped and padded. It kills her to admit the sorrow she feels for him in that moment, but she quickly suppresses the thoughts and and carries on to place the book quietly on the nightstand beside him where an empty glass and plate sit. She takes note that the slices of chicken from their earlier dinner are left untouched.

Letting out a quiet breath through her nose, she picks them up and turns to exit. Only she is found frozen in place when her eyes land on the pair staring up at her. Far too dark to find the color in his eyes, but she can easily see the gloss of his whites. It’s a terrifying moment, standing there as if caught red handed. She thinks to speak but nothing comes out. Will he say something first? It’s impossible to know, and the moment seems to drag on forever.

But it does end. With the man blinking slowly, before ultimately shutting his eyes and adjusting his limbs the best he can to another painless position. Relief washes over her, and without pause she heads back upstairs to finally breathe. Her heart thuds hard, tightening her chest. The glass and plate are thoroughly washed, disposing of the excess meat.

Another sleepless night ensues.


	2. Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> don't you just...love a slow burn. delicious.

“‘ _Accepting Defeat_ ’. I hope you weren’t expecting me to commend you for your choice.” The man drawls, tossing the book back onto his lap. Nearly done by the looks of it.

Kim’s mother is checking his vitals, calmly and patiently while he stares down the cheerleader who stands at the foot of the stairs, watching her parents work. She rolls her eyes at the comment, pretending as if she wasn’t initially amused at what she had chosen.

“I’d be a fool to expect anything other than some form of criticism.” Her arms fold over the bannister, resting her chin and watching the three of them carefully. Monkey Fist doesn’t pay much mind to her parents, only appears mildly inconvenienced by the interruption. His eyes are focused on her, as if he’s silently claiming that his quarrel is with no one else.

She’s not sure whether that brings her comfort or not.

Even then, she can still feel the startled nerves of the night before. The gaze he had cast upon her through the dark. A brief moment, one he may not even remember. She can’t remember thelast time something had rattled her so.

“You’ve been trying to get up.” Her mother’s voice breaks her thoughts, catching the attention of the two of them. Her voice, while that of an accusing mother, is still soft and curious. “There’s a lot of tension being put on your stitches.”

“Of _course_ I have. Relying solely on dependance of _others_ will not help me.” Monkey First retorts, watching both parents exchange a look between them.

“And neither will making an enemy of yourself. The smallest of movements could further injure you, setting your recovery back further. If you _need_ anything…ask us.” Her mother gives him a soft smile before rising and letting out a deep breath. “Everything else looks okay. We’ll need to wait for my colleague to check in on your leg this weekend.”

He doesn’t say ‘thank you’, but she’s convinced that his silence is as close as he will get to one. Her parents don’t linger any longer, collecting their things before passing Kim and heading back up. Kim is right behind them, taking a few steps up before a loud thud sounds behind her. Taking a step back, she notes the book on the floor near the bed, and a smirking man within it.

“Ah… _clumsy_. Be a _dear_ , would you?”

Her jaw sets, giving one lasting look at her parents who are now closing the door behind them. She walks back down, moving towards the book and carefully picking it up out of his reach. But she keeps it within her hold, staring hard at the man who so obviously set her up.

“Taking _advantage_ of my kindness might not be something you want to pursue.” Kim warns with a thin smile and raised brows that further suggest her warning.

Monkey Fist responds with a smirk, shifting to reach over and take hold of the freshly poured tea sitting beside him. Compliments of Mrs. Possible who has taken to even purchasing a brand he found…acceptable.

“You Possibles certainly have a lot rules, hm?” He sips at the hot mug, humming softly with delight. “I can’t possibly keep up with _all_ of them.”

Kim tosses the book onto his lap, watching him growl at the action before he is quickly forced to balance the mug in his hand despite the pain and suddenness of the landing.

“Is the great monkey master admitting there’s something he can’t do?” Kim challenges, absolutely delighted by the look on his face. One of frustration and disappointment.

“Have I _made_ such claims?” He sets the tea down, moving the book off of a sore spot where it had come to rest.

“You never needed to. You make it pretty clear who you are and what you’re about. A man who’s using all of his money and resources to gain power.”

“There are plenty of men who do the same, but you still let them sit in their high towers and do what they _please_.”

“We’ll be here all day if you want to play _that_ game, Monkey Fist. I won’t engage in comparing _you_ to corporate criminals.” She flashes a pressed grin before turning her back and looking to exit the room.

“If you’ve got one like this, you’ve got others.” His tone is a touch more….pleasant now. And perhaps a little desperate as he realizes that his entertainment is quickly dwindling. “I’ll be finishing this book soon…if you’re keen on lending another. Perhaps a thinner one, if you plan on _throwing_ it at me.”

Kim struggles to hide her smirk at that, tossing a look over her shoulder to at least acknowledge him before ultimately not responding. She’ll bring him another one, of course. But just as before… it will be on her own time. And right now, there are people to save.

———

It’s been a few days ever since she had brought Monkey Fist into her home that any calls had been made for her. She was relieved to receive one early that morning. Less excited when she found out that it would require the entirety of her weekend. While traveling with her best friend was a great way to spend it- leaving her family home with a violent villain didn’t settle well. Her attempt at hiding the discomfort was put to the test as Ron didn’t hold back the whole trip, letting her know exactly how he felt about the situation.

But frequent calls home settled her in brief moments. Her father had taken to bringing the man some books, having even picked some new ones up that fit his taste a little better. That knowledge was….irritating to learn. Having to remind him that making friends with the man and catering to his needs outside of medical and survival, was unnecessary. Nothing, of course, that was going to change either of her parent’s minds. ‘As long as he stays where he is.’ Is what she ends every call with, aware of the blanket of paranoia that had wrapped her shoulders the whole trip.

Coming home a couple of days later allows her to breathe without that weight. It’s late at night, and walking into the house brings a soft smile to her face. Greeted by pleasant smells wafting from the kitchen. Her feet carry her there on their own, seeing both of her parents cleaning up and conversing passionately over what she can only assume is work related. But they’re quickly distracted upon seeing her enter, both moving to welcome her home with warm arms and bright smiles. Her father fetches the plate prepared for her, urging her to eat and talk them through the weekend.

And she does. All up until she hears voices coming from below. Her eyes narrow, and she puts up a hand as if to silence the room for a moment.

“Where…are the twins?”

The soon after verbal explosion is short-lived before she is heading into the basement. Her little brothers? Alone with _Monkey Fist_? Her anger stemmed more from the idea that her parents didn’t see the problem, insisting that the man had not given them reason to be distrusted yet. They also assume that if anything, their guest would need be to on guard from the two children who nearly leveled their house on more than one occasion.

There wasn’t time to explain or to shout, she needed to make sure her brothers were safe. And as soon as she opened the door, she made herself wait before charging down. The first thought coming to her mind was how Monkey Fist would be overly pleased with her worry. She wasn’t going to let him have that one. Kim listens for a few moments, hearing nothing of concern and so she calmly walks down the steps, wanting so badly to knock her head into the wall when she sees the three of them.

Monkey Fist sits on the side of the bed….the lower half of his face covered in shaving cream, Jim and Tim on either side of him. Tim holds up a mirror, while Jim holds the can of cream and a small towel. He’s the first to spot Kim and beam up at her.

“Kim!”

“Hey Kim!” Tim throws over his shoulder, trying to keep the mirror steady.

She’s completely distraught at what she’s observing, her eyes then taking in the stack of books nearby. He’s been busy.

“What…are you doing?” Kim steps further into the room, catching Monkey Fist’s eye who doesn’t linger on her too long.

“What does it _look_ like?” He retorts, careful not to move his lips too much as he takes another careful stroke of his razor down his cheek.

“We asked if he was planning to make his face look like his hands and feet.” Jim adds in excitedly, with Tim offering more insight.

“It looked worse than dad’s when he decided not to shave for a couple of weeks.”

Monkey Fist shoots them both a glare before resuming, careful to get every patch even if this is not his…usual setup.

“Okay- you two aren’t supposed to be down here. Don’t you have something to…I don’t know… _blow up?_ ” Arms fold over her chest, and the big-sister stance is taken.

“Oh, we do.” Tim assures her, “But it’s the least we can do to help.”

_“He doesn’t need help.”_

_“I don’t need help.”_

They both exchange looks at that, the room falling silent aside from the sound of razor upon skin. The man finishes in just a few moments, taking the towel to wipe the excess foam from his face.

And there he is. Monkey Fist. Looking a little more like himself…aside from the…. _everything else_. It worries her that he had managed even sitting up on the bed, but by the looks of it- it is a very small victory.

“Hey, mind if we keep the hair?” The two beam at the man, both eager for him to say ‘yes’. And so he does, not without a roll of his eyes and a wave of his hand. The two take their supplies and sprint past Kim and back up the stairs, yet again leaving the two alone.

“It was nice while it lasted.” The man drawls, gritting his teeth as he shifts to lay back onto the bed. “Having you gone, that is. I was even beginning to enjoy myself.” He does flash a small smirk before it turns into another grimace. Shoulders find the cool sheets and allows for him to release a careful breath.

Kim rolls her eyes, taking a step closer to the bed.

“This is not your time to make friends. I told you not to mess with my family.”

“ _They_ come to _me_.” Monkey Fist responds, “I have no control over what _they_ do. Does it bother you so much that _you_ don’t either?”

“It bothers me that you’re being _nice_ to them. Tricking them. Acting like you wouldn’t turn all of this around if you could. And I _know_ you. I know you wouldn’t _miss_ the opportunity.” She doesn’t realize that her feet have carried her further…closer…too close.

“That’s rather accusatory, Kimberly. Had some time to steep in the ‘ _what-ifs_ ’ while you were away? _Plagued_ by the second thoughts?”

Her hand lifts up, merely to point at him, to emphasize the point she’s about to make- but his hand snatches it out of the air.

The grip is familiar…strong. All breath leaves her when she realizes her mistake. When she realizes that her caution has wavered due to her own frustration. A mistake she had learned many times before- and one that obviously has not stuck yet. Despite his injuries, there appears to be no effort in keeping her wrist trapped there. And while she’s certain it’s not as much of a threat as it would have been weeks ago, she is still frozen with fear.

The man’s eyes are dark and promising. What exactly? That remains unknown. But he is careful not to make his grip overly tight. His intention isn’t to harm, but to assume some brief position of power. A cheerleader in his face? Lecturing him like a _child_? No. He won’t have that.

“I don’t blame you. The very worst thoughts you’ve had of me? They still aren’t _nearly_ as bad as the truth. But if it keeps you out of my _face_ , I promise you: **your family is safe**.”

And without a moment longer, he lets her go. She’s instantly taking a step back, her other hand finding her wrist to rub at the heat left by his hand.

“I…can’t trust you.” She manages to get out, and without a quiver in her voice that she was certain would be there.

Monkey Fist rolls his eyes and lays his head back to the headboard, knocking it dramatically.

“You just watched me handle a _blade_ in front of your siblings. You left them all here with me alone for _days_. Do you **_really_** think I haven’t had my opportunities?”

She refuses to feel stupid about it all. Yes, his point is valid but only to an extent. His past decisions and actions have and always will skew her perception of him. But because of that…it’s driving her crazy. After all, she had been the one to bring him here. She had made the choice. It was time to accept that.

With a deep inhale through her nose, she drops her hands to her sides and gives the man a hard look.

“I hope you’re right, Monkey Fist. For both our sake’s.”

— — —

They all have a routine, one that he’s acutely aware of now. The latest any of them are up on the main level is usually around 11. And only does the father wander into the kitchen around the late hours of 2-3 for what he assumes is something to eat. Which means, now that it is approaching midnight, it is safe for him to rise. To test his body without eyes upon him. His skin burns at every pull and tug that his stitches endure, his back screaming for him to lay back down in the one position that doesn’t bring him agony. And his leg…his leg might just be the worst. “Shattered” from the knee down was how they had described it. It sure as hell feels that way, too.

Still, he forces himself up onto his good leg, running out of breath due to his failing fight not to grunt in pain. But the washroom isn’t far, and there is a crutch nearby that he is able to reach for. It’s a slow journey there, breaking out into a light sweat by the time is hand is finding the switch. The bright beams are unwelcome, but his eyes adjust quickly. Perhaps too quickly, as he approaches the sink and finds the man staring at him through the mirror.

A tired man. Who looks incredibly out of place. He gets tired of looking, and turns on the tap. Warm, cold, he doesn’t care to choose and simply twists one of them, quietly pleased that it doesn’t come out as one extreme. His other hand grips the sink, holding on tight while he wets his face and hair. Eyes slipping closed.

He remembers that waterfall.

Deafening was the roar of it. It’s all he can hear as he falls. All he can feel; the sharp spray of water before his body hits the wet rock.

The thought sees him flinch. Forcing eyes open to escape the memory. A growl gurgles in his throat, a flash of anger sends his fist towards the mirror where all he sees is a failure. A weak man. A man who made a stupid mistake. He was better than that. Better than this. But his hand never meets the mirror. Destroying that of those who have have helped him? It isn’t the way. Not _his_ way. He forces himself to take a few deep breaths, losing himself into a focus he had mastered years ago.

With his head bowed and water dripping down his chest and into the sink, he meditates if not for a short period of time. Focusing on his breath…on the buzz of the central air…on anything but the pain. Anything but green eyes that look upon him with disgust. The moment they enter his mind, his focus is lost. The pain returns.

Making his way back is almost easier, but reaching the bed and getting into it prove to be two drastically different experiences. A pained hiss escapes him without permission, as he finds a way to lay back down. The stitched areas throb and burn from the tension, the other parts proving uncomfortable even if he knows he’s in the best position to be in. It’s no matter, as his hand reaches out to collect the pills waiting for him; the promise of a dreamless sleep is exactly what he looks forward to.

And for the most part, it comes.

That is, until he’s free falling again.

The fall longer than he remembered. Falling harder…faster than he should be. He can’t see the ground, but he knows it’s coming. The unknown of when that impact comes is hollowing out his chest and filling it again with awful dread.

And then it comes.

His body wakes first, springing up as he is jolted awake. He’s not even fully aware of what has happened before he is letting out an agonizing growl. The sharp and sudden movement had busted open a set of stitches on his stomach, and had sent waves of sharp pain up his spine. Hands cover the open wound, and he forces himself to lay back down even though it does nothing to soothe the sudden and unbearable pain.

He can feel the warmth of blood beginning to coat his palms, and the layer of sweat that sits upon his skin- undoubtedly from the discomfort of his nightmare. Eyes shut tight as he grits his teeth and fights like hell to stop it all.

For a moment he thinks he feels something on his arm. Something warm…like a…hand?

“Mom..”

A voice, but it is hard to tell, for the pain sends a ringing to his ears that is almost as painful as everything else.

“Mom! Get down here! There’s something… _wrong._ ”


	3. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *upside down smiley emoji*

Finally, he rests.

To no one’s credit other than the medicine shot into his arm. The one that couldn’t be administered quick enough. The one Monkey Fist tried desperately to avoid. His hands, wet with warm blood, had made a valiant attempt at keeping both her and her father off of him. If not for his pain, he surely would have been able to keep them distant- the grip and strength of his hands having proved the worth of their price in those moments.

“ _It will help”_ , they assured him.

But the man saw a fear in that syringe more than he did the thread and needle soon to enter back into raw wounds. One couldn’t happen without the other, and so Kim takes her chance. Her hand reaching out to grab his jaw, forcing him to look at her.

_“Monty, it’s okay!”_

Eyes reflecting anger…fear…desperation…soon show something else. Surprise. Just enough of it for her father to stick his arm. The man hisses, but he accepts his defeat, both hands easing their grip on the both of them. The medication taking its toll quickly, as his whole body stops its fight. Kim helps guide his hand back down to his chest, letting her own stay there for a moment as she looks to her mother.

Ever the professional, her eyes trained on the tools and flesh before her while calmly addressing both her daughter and husband as if she would her colleagues. A cool towel. A bowl. Swabs and gauze. The list continues along with the directions, but until the wet cloth is handed over to Kim, she stays with her hand upon the warrior’s wrist. She keeps a close eye on him. Watching his breath begin continue to steady, his eyes lidded and fighting to stay coherent.

“What happened?”

She hears her father ask as they all begin to work on their tasks. Her father assisting her mother in cleaning the wound and getting it stitched back up, while Kim lets go of his wrist to fold and place the cool rag upon his forehead. He is hot to the touch, almost feverish.

“I was in the kitchen…just getting breakfast. I heard him yell and…when I came down I just saw blood.”

She doesn’t know what had happened, what triggered it. Her mother’s silence confirms that she has an idea of what it might be, but will hold her thoughts until her job is done. Kim reaches for another cloth in the meantime, moving to soak it under warm water before coming back and gently taking one of his hands. She works to clean the blood from them, feeling his fingers flex slightly as she is certain to get every corner and crevice. Wiping the blood away, she doesn’t even see the stains he had left on her own arms.

“He…doesn’t look…well.” She observes quietly, her brows pushing together- knowing that despite her recent conversations with the man, she didn’t wish to see him this way. With that same pained expression he had in the helicopter.

“I think, Kimmy, that Mr. Fiske here is beginning his journey in healing the wounds that we can’t see.”

That…pains her to hear, and somehow comforts her as well. She doesn’t question her mother, knowing that while she was an expert at physical ailments, she was just as knowledgable about the trauma invisible to the eye. Green eyes look back to his face, turned away now, but still…awake. Barely.

They all finish in silence, an eerie thing as the man lays there, now finally knocked out from his dose. Her mother inspects and changes the other bandages where necessary before rising and turning to her two helpers. With a deep inhale, she smiles softly and folds her arms.

“Why don’t we give our guest some space.”

And space is exactly what they give him. Save for her father checking in on him frequently, prepared to bring him whatever he needs. But the man sleeps through the day. A concerning thing to all of them, but they leave him be. Only when they are cleaning up after dinner does Kim cut up various fruits and collects them into a small bowl. She makes sure to add in more grapes than anything, remembering his likeness towards them. Heading into the basement, she carries the bowl over to his bedside table. He sleeps still, and so she heads into the bathroom to fill a glass with water, and freezes at the sound of dry coughing behind her.

Turning she sees his figure begin to move. Exiting the bathroom, she switches on a nearby lamp before rounding the bed and handing him over the water. He makes it onto his side, clenching his jaw as he shifts to sit on the edge of the bed. A hand comes out to brace himself on the nightstand, the other accepting the water and quickly bringing it to his lips.

He chugs down the whole thing, the cool liquid spilling out of the sides at the speed in which he seeks to consume it all. It’s finished within moments, and with the same hand that holds the glass, he wipes it across his lips to haphazardly clean up the mess.

“I’ll…get you a towel.” Kim insists, taking the glass back from him to refill it just as well. When she comes back, she watches him inspect the bowl, as if he is uncertain in consuming it.

“You just…lost a lot of blood. Figured you’d need some sugar.” She sets the glass back down and leaves a dry rag for him as well before taking a step back. She has half a mind to call for her parents, but decides against it for now.

“Not right now.” His voice is deep and dry, placing the bowl back and taking the glass instead.

“I can get you something else-.”

“I’m not hungry.” He insists, his eyes finally looking upon her after he has taken a few more swigs of water. Her brows push together at his response, urging her to step back into his space.

“If my mom finds out you’re awake and not eating, you’re in for a long lecture. Somehow, I really don’t think that’s what you want right now.” She folds her arms and presses a small grin to her lips, hoping to settle any rising tension.

He doesn’t return it in kind, of course. Only glares at her before collecting the bowl again and popping a cut of melon into his mouth. Her suspicions proved correct.

“And how long will _this_ pity party last?” The man asks, staring back up at her. Smile wavering slightly, she unfolds her arms and lets out a short breath. He sees right through her, reminding her that physical prowess isn’t all the man relies on to maintain some position of control.

“Hey. I’m allowed to feel a little bad– I _did_ have to wash your blood off of me before going to school this morning.” Kim points out, a little humor heard in her tone.

Monkey Fist makes a face at that, but doesn’t argue it. The point is valid. He can remember it. He can still see the look of horror on her face. Just as well…the look of _concern_.

He could swear that she spoke his name. His _real_ name.

“Besides…if I wished to see any of my enemies in pain, that wouldn’t make me too different from them, would it?”

“Sounds like you think you have something to _prove_.”

Kim sighs at that, but refuses to let him defeat her. She moves over to a nearby armchair, sitting upon it and folding her legs. Monkey Fist pauses to look up at her, not without obvious suspicion. Her kindness feels unwarranted, and more than that…the idea of someone feeling bad for him overcomes him with nausea.

“Don’t I?” She asks, “When everyone has eyes on you, you pick up a few habits.”

Monkey Fist scoffs at that, almost sounding as if he knows exactly what she means. And perhaps he does, but surely his response comes from a place of disbelief more than anything. He plucks a grape and pops it into his mouth, swallowing it down with another chug of cold water.

“And is this one of them? Keeping me company because it’s the ‘ _right thing to do_ ’? It’s what is expected from the girl who can ‘ ** _do anything_** ’?” His voice drips with sarcasm, with no care to reserve his true thoughts. She can appreciate at _least_ that. Honesty, even if it comes in the form of a dagger.

“There’s no one else here right now but us. The choice was made by me alone. And since you’re the only one here, I think that’s up for _you_ to decide.”

She glances over at him, careful not to let him take advantage of the situation. He doesn’t look quite satisfied with the answer, as it is evident that he doesn’t expect it.

“Well, if you’re so _intent_ on sitting here…some tea will do.”

Her brows raise at that, surprised by what feels like acceptance. She won’t allow herself to fully believe that’s what it is, as that is a surefire way of endangering her spirit. But she does rise with a nod, heading over to the kitchenette where her mother had so graciously stocked an electric kettle along with all necessary fixings.

Monkey Fist watches her, quietly working at the bowl while he thinks back to that morning. He doesn’t remember much, only the thread being pulled through his flesh…and the warmth of fingers seeking to clean his hands. He grows tired of his position, grunting as he moves to lay back down, his shoulders propped up against pillows.

“So when are you going to tell my mom that you’re a vegetarian?”

The question comes out of nowhere, and he nearly miss-swallows the melon in his mouth. He pauses for a moment to collect himself, wiping at his lips and narrowing his eyes at her. Kim smirks to herself, knowing that his initial silence means that her observations were right. She’d noticed that meat was always left on his plates.

“The woman has already done enough for me. I won’t ask her to cater to _unnecessary_ needs.”

Kim can’t help but snicker at that, turning to lean against the counter with her arms folded and head tilted.

“It might actually save her pride, you know. What cook doesn’t want to see their plate come back empty?”

It’s oddly thoughtful of him, she thinks, but it reminds her just how uncomfortable this is all for him just as it is for her. The man doesn’t respond, clearly already having made his decision and sticking to it. The kettle turns off behind her, and so she turns to pour the boiled water into two mugs.

“Two sugars?” She asks over her shoulder, dipping the spoon into the cylinder as she fixes or own drink first.

“One.” He corrects, pausing before adding, “and a splash of milk.”

She does as requested, carrying over both mugs with ease. His is placed on the nightstand, while hers is accompanied by both hands as she resumes her seat nearby. Cradling the drink in her hands, it keeps her nicely warm in a cool room. She and her parents had learned quickly of his likeness to colder climate.

“So, are you going to bite my head off if I ask how you’re feeling?”

An unamused glance is flashed her way as he turns to pick up his own mug, taking a careful sip and sighing pleasantly as he rests his head back against the board.

“You were there this morning. I imagine you know exactly how I’m feeling.”

“I imagine I do.” She agrees, “But I guess what I really mean is…how you’re feeling… _besides_ that. It’s still…unclear what happened.”

Again, there is no response. Little does she know that there is an internal struggle within him. Wanting to answer but knowing the way it will come out will only do more damage. He figures silence is the better option to take. But Kim doesn’t see it that way, and so she adjusts her position and rests the mug on a side table next to the chair.

“I get it. You don’t want to talk to me. You don’t want me here. I know that you’re thinking this situation couldn’t be any worse. That speaking to me is probably _beneath_ you. But you’re here. And you’re healing. And while you think you’re better off doing it all alone, you’re just hurting yourself more. There isn’t one person in this house that wants anything other than to see you leave here better.”

“Better, but not _free_. Right?”

“I-.”

“Don’t. I know the answer. What would you like me to say, Kimberly? Since you already have me all _figured out_. There are always consequences in decisions made and words said. I refuse to make anymore mistakes, and if that means guarding my ‘ _feelings’_ from the cheerleader who practically _lives_ to make my life miserable, then so it shall be.”

“I don’t _live_ to make your life miserable. When your _‘decisions’_ end up hurting other people, then I step in to help them. Right now, I’m choosing not to hold that against you. At the very least, you could do the same for me.”

“By telling you how I feel? By giving you freedom to pursue parts of me that you could weaponize when all of this is said and done?”

There’s a pause there, leaving a heated stare between them. It becomes clearer to her then, just as most things have come to be when in his presence; he gives more insight when he doesn’t intend to.

“I’m not asking for that.” Kim responds, tone softer, “All I’m saying is…if you have something you need to say…or to get out of your head…I can listen.”

“Telling you what’s inside my head will _not_ make me feel any better. I doubt it will do the same for you. No. I can figure it out on my own.”

“Keeping it trapped inside of you will only do you more harm. You’re…holding onto this poison thinking it will find its own way out.”

“And how would _you_ know? You are merely a _child_. You have no idea what’s inside of me.” He lashes out at her, like a snake who doesn’t trust the distance between itself and its predator. But Kim merely takes it, knowing that taking his words to heart would be unfair to both of them. He’s angry. Hurting. She needs to stay level with him.

“You’re right. I don’t. But I do know that whatever it is…it’s _hurting_ you.”

Kim waits a moment, watching the man take thumb and forefinger to his temples, massaging them quietly while still holding onto his drink. She sucks in a breath and sits up, accepting that this isn’t the way progress will happen.

“I shouldn’t be pushing you. Listen just…if you do change your mind-.” She’s halfway out of her chair when his voice stops her.

“Wait-.” He puts his hand up, halting her from moving any further. Kim freezes and looks up at him, seeing the conflict evident upon his features.

“Stay. Just…stay. I need to think.”

It’s… a step. An unexpected one, but one nonetheless. Whether in the right direction or not, she remains uncertain. But she moves back into the seat, tucking her legs and making herself comfortable as she watches him. And so she watches him for a long time. The two of them just sitting there in complete silence. Monkey Fist staring at the ceiling, while Kim wraps her arms around her knees and rests her head. They continue drinking their tea, and at some point Kim takes it upon herself to reach over and turn the radio on low. Skips the stations she thinks he wouldn’t be keen on, and to her relief he doesn’t fight her on the one that is chosen.

It is a long while, longer than either expect, when she feels herself begin to lull off into a light sleep. Hours have passed at this point, and before she knows it, she’s fallen asleep on that chair where Monty still watches her quietly. Listens to her breathing…making sure that he knows for certain she is asleep before he clears his voice and finally speaks low.

“I was falling.” He begins, pausing briefly to think over how he can say it despite no one listening. “Every time I…close my eyes…or try to meditate. Every time I sleep I’m… _falling_.” He shifts his gaze, making sure his voice has not woken her.

“I can never see the ground. Every time it’s _different_. There is no control…there is no ending that I can see. But I know it’s coming. And all I can do is wait…to feel that impact. To break again.”

He sucks in his breath, closing his eyes with a shame that wells in his chest. Seeing the memory but this time only letting it be that: a memory.

“And that’s what I am. I’m… _broken_. Stuck here…forced to relive a foolish mistake. I…I could have done it differently. I should have…I _should_ have seen it coming. I **_failed_**. And failure for me is not an option.”

Eyes open, blue and tired and…defeated. They shift back over to her, so peaceful in her sleep. So _safe_.

“But _you_ don’t know anything about failure, do you? What blissful ignorance.” There is jealousy in his voice and he hates himself for hearing it. Allowing it. “But I suppose that’s not entirely on you. You and I….we’re polar opposites in that regard.”

He takes in a deep breath, not without grimacing at the pain of wounds expanding uncomfortably. His hand falls upon his forehead, feeling a little more relaxed after having getting the thoughts out of his head…even if the cheerleader wasn’t awake to hear it. Perhaps she was right. And when he turns his head to look upon her again, a fear coats his lungs as a figure could be seen taking the last few steps of the stairs.

“I’ve found that success is impossible to come by _without_ a little failure.”

Monty freezes, his eyes gone wide as he looks up to see the girl’s father walking into the room. The man greets him with a soft smile, hands buried in his pockets as he stands at the foot of the bed and observes him.

He’s not sure what he fears most in this moment: that somehow he has betrayed the trust of those looking after him, or that what he had tried to keep so deeply hidden away was now knowledge to one of them. He’s partly tempted to redeem himself, to further explain what it is her father is walking in to.

But no words come to him.

“Don’t worry. My lips are sealed but hey– cut yourself some slack, will ya? No one in this world is perfect. In some ways, it’s those imperfections that others in your life will find to be…perfect.” The man smiles sincerely as he leans down to collect the girl into his arms.

“Rest easy, Monty. And try to give yourself a break.”

He carries her up the stairs and wishes him a good night, leaving the man still very much alarmed and alone. The radio still plays. He eases back into the sheets and finds himself looking over at the now empty chair.

And as if she is still in the room, he looks back to the ceiling and exhales evenly.

“That did help.”


	4. Middle Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hi yes I did repost this and with a new chapter. sorry if there was any confusion!

Another mission steals her away for days. Four, this time, and not at all due to original plans. She stays busy while traveling, homework stacked high for both her and Ron. It’s exhausting, and even more so are the thoughts scratching at the back of her mind. Wondering where things had left off between her and Monkey Fist. He had wanted her to stay, and yet upon waking up in her own bed the next morning she couldn’t help but wonder if she had let him down. It’s that very thought which troubles her as well, for why should she care? This _is_ Monkey Fist, after all. A man who won’t spare a second thought for her physical or mental well being.

Or so she thought.

But there is somewhat of a trust there now. She doesn’t make a ton of calls home, and doesn’t worry much on what he’s doing while with her family. He made his promise, and so she will hold him to it. Even upon returning, it is another day before she is exempt from any priority aside from taking care of herself. No homework, no practice, and no missions. It’s nice to just sit with her family, arms folded upon the table with her head resting over them. Her mother’s nearly finished with dinner, a new recipe inspired by the knowledge Kim made sure to share before leaving on her trip.

“How’s he doing?” The question comes as soon as her plate is set down in front of her. It looks good, and smells even better. It makes her a little happier to know that at the very least, the man downstairs should be pleased.

“Better, I think.” Her mother responds, still keeping her hands busy in the kitchen. “He’s quiet. Always looks like he’s thinking. But the boys have been keeping him some company.”

Kim lets out a dry laugh at that.

“Oh, I’m sure he _loves_ that.” Just the idea of it is amusing to her, knowing how…invasive her brothers can be.

“Actually, I don’t think he minds it. Last I heard he was helping them with english, I think.” That…does surprise Kim a little. In a _good_ way? She’s not quite sure…but hearing that the man was playing fair…does ease her nerves somewhat.

“Great. _Monkey Fist_ tutoring my brothers. Never thought I’d see the day.” Her mother laughs at that, joining her at the table while Kim eats– later deeming the dish delicious.

She decides to show face soon after her meal, immediately hearing Jim and Tim upon opening the door to the basement. Her eyes immediately meet the blue ones peering over a book at her as she makes her way down. Another surprise to see him wearing clothes that aren’t his own. Finally having submit to the shirt and sweatpants lent to him. But before she surveys anything else, she looks to the sofa further into the room where her brothers sit in front of it on the floor, working together on a device she’s afraid to ask about.

“So this is where you two hide these days?” She greets, spotting an empty nightstand…and an opportunity. She moves over to the kettle, switching it on before moving to inspect her brothers’ work. They chat excitedly, while keeping their voices lower as to not disturb their new ‘friend’. Kim rises again when the kettle is ready, moving to fix the man his tea– remembering the way he prefers it.

He watches her with every step, lowering the book when the mug is placed beside him.

“And where is yours?” The man greets, his tone in no parts kind nor cruel.

“The last thing I need right now is caffein.” She admits, the exhaustion easily heard in her voice. He places the book upside down to hold his place while reaching over to collect his drink.

“Calling it caffein oversimplifies tea.”

Kim scoffs and rolls her eyes at that, her focus turning back to the twins. She wants to note that he is perhaps disappointed in not sharing a drink together– but ultimately doubts that is at all the case. A custom English thing, perhaps– that sounds more believable.

“I _know_ you told her.” Monkey Fist speaks again, as if to tell a child that they’ve been caught redhanded. She smiles a little at that, taking her chance and sitting on the edge of the bed…a somewhat safe distance away. If _any_ distance from those limbs could be considered safe.

“Of course I did. And she was happy to make the changes.”

Monkey Fist is surprised when she joins him, after having watched her try and keep her distance for so long. He sips at the tea and hums softly, his eyes following hers to the two boys who continue to work within the room.

“She thinks it’s nice that you’re helping them.” She adds, but not without a measured caution– knowing that there was the possibility he would fight that idea.

“And what do _you_ think?” She should have expected that, too: _redirection_. Looking back to him, she tilts her head and smirks.

“I think you’re _bored_.”

And there it is. For a split second she can see it, and there is no mistaking it, a smirk. An incredibly small one that vanishes just as quickly as it comes. But it was there. She had managed a win…a small one…but one nonetheless.

“Clever girl.”

The comment is hidden in his drink as he takes another pull from it. Kim knows if she stays any longer, she’d be risking the middle ground it seems they have found in this brief moment. She also knows that if she stays any longer, walking back up those steps will seem impossible. There’s a moment that she thinks to apologize for the other night. For having fallen asleep. But there is nothing about his attitude that suggests she has shown him any offense. And so she sighs and looks to him.

“I’ll come back tomorrow. Maybe then you can tell me all about,” she cocks her head to read the title of the book, “‘ _Black Holes and Time Warps’_ as if I don’t hear enough about it at dinner.” She gives him a gentle smile, moving off of the bed and taking a few steps back.

It’s a dangerous thing, one she instantly regrets but knows she won’t be able to take back. An expectation. An admittance that she will want to be back and an assumption that he will want her there. To anyone else they are just words in passing, but to him…she knows it’s a move in this game of chess that can’t be undone. And now, his turn.

“Tomorrow, then.” He agrees dryly, not looking to stop her this time.

And just like that, his piece is moved.

There’s nothing more to say. Especially not in front of her siblings who have seen him be more than cordial. And while he’s not holding onto any resentment over past conversations that have turned sour, he won’t leave it to chance.

They do both exchange a look. An understanding. And that’s all that is needed to send her on her way, and him back to his book. She wishes her brothers a good night and makes her way up to her room, not even managing to change out of her clothes before knocking out over her sheets.

Taking advantage of the weekend, she sleeps late into the morning. Upon waking, she strips out of her day clothes that had left painful marks upon her skin after sleeping in them. She takes a long shower, grateful for the heat that wraps around her in both steam and water. Ron will surely have plans for the both of them later, and so she dresses for that before heading into the kitchen.

Empty.

No sign of her parents or the twins. Not an entirely odd thing, but she supposes that they’ve begun their day without waiting up for her. Her next stop is the basement, where she is mildly alarmed to see that the bed has been stripped. Of course, her worries are somewhat eased when her mother comes into view.

“Uh…am I missing something?” She asks with concern, only until she’s stepped into the room does she see Monkey Fist through the glass doors, sitting out at the patio table. Still, her mother gives her an answer.

“I figured he might appreciate a cleaned room. More than that, he needed some fresh air. Confined spaces for weeks does nothing for a person’s spirit. Oh, and we decided to cut back on some of his doses…so…try not to poke the bear, will you?” Her mother…ever kind and elegant. She wonders if Monkey Fist understands just how lucky he is.

Kim smirks, “Me? Antagonizing a villain? _Never_.”

She walks over to the glass door, sliding it open and stepping out into an admittedly beautiful morning sun. The man turns his head before bringing his tea to his lips, his eyes following her as she joins him at the table. It’s the first time she’s gotten a look a this leg, seeing the cast upon the one that is elevated on another chair.

“Thought I’d escaped?” He greets with a brow raised, as to test her immediately.

“I’d be impressed if you did. Even making it out here…don’t you think that’s a bit risky?” 

“I’m not _helpless_.” The man retorts, “I refuse to be confined to that bed forever.”

She doesn’t push the matter, and instead reaches over to the tray housing a teapot and fixings, only for her reach to miss the mark when the man tugs it carefully away from her. She’s about to make a face and throw her accusation, but he beats her to it…thankfully.

“If you _make_ the tea, you _pour_ it.” He chides, before following through on his words. Without thought, he pours the drink, surprising her as he makes it the way she likes it. All from watching her, she supposes.

Upon finishing, he places the cup in front of her, leaving her smirking at what she’d like to point out is him being unusually polite. But she heeds her mother’s warning, and by her own experience, decides to quietly thank him before cradling the drink in her hands.

She tries to be careful. Not wanting to provoke the man, while also not wanting to submit to his want for silence from her. Of course, it doesn’t seem like that is exactly what he wants…but silence gives him the upper-hand. Gives him the lead. Not that the conflict matters as she finds herself watching him for a long moment, unaware that he is suddenly staring at her until his voice snaps her out of it.

“See something you like?” His voice, while light, is drenched in sarcasm– paired nicely with brows that furrow in a dramatic movement. She recovers rather well, forcing herself to keep that eye contact while her tongue cleans the tea from her lips.

“Just…well…a thought just occurred to me.”

 _Sorry mom,_ she thinks, a smile stretching over her lips.

“Why _did_ DNAmy think you two were….well…?” She’s careful to at least not label it, but that doesn’t stop the look on his face: one of disbelief and disgust.

“Ever the cheerleader, Kimberly.” He composes himself to the best of his ability, looking away and tending to his drink. “Concerned over non existent _drama_ as opposed to pressing matters at hand.”

“Non existent? I _was_ there, you know.” Kim reminds him with a grin, quietly loving his attempt at denying the whole thing. “And if that’s the rule you want to set, I could argue that it is absolutely a pressing matter. She _is_ still out there.”

“You said it yourself. Bringing me here was the safest choice, no? So what does it matter? You are merely _looking_ for information purely out of personal interest.”

“And if I am?”

Going back and forth won’t get her anywhere, and so she risks his lead. Allowing him to think what he’d like– even if it isn’t completely off the mark. He doesn’t respond for a long while, as if weighing his options. Finally, he knocks his head back and lets out a dramatic breath.

“She was the geneticist I hired for my ...enhancements.” He answers flatly. “And it didn’t come _cheap_. But I paid my price, in that of _one_ form. Whatever she believes to have conspired between us was birthed only in _her_ mind.”

“In my experience, guys who say that are usually guilty of _planting_ that seed and later claiming they don’t know a thing about gardening.” Kim challenges with a quirked brow, watching him glare over at her.

“ _Boys_.” He corrects. “I am nothing if not intentional. My understanding is that you have dealt with her in the past. Do not sit here and pretend as if you aren’t _aware_ of her obsession.”

“No one is pretending. But as you say…you are intentional and not without _your own_ obsessions. You’ll do whatever necessary to get what you want. Somehow I don’t think batting your eyes at a geneticist is beneath you.”

“ _Stop_ looking for something that _isn’t_ there.”

Kim rises then, rounding the table and taking hold of the teapot. As expected, his hand moves out to stop her, fingers wrapping around her wrist with an underlying and dangerous promise, but she looks him in the eye and offers a silent truce.

“Hey. Relax. I believe you.” And she does. She had her fun, and knows that while her speculation isn’t without probably cause…there’s no reason for him to not admit it. Her free hand carefully removes the large one from her wrist, going back to pouring them both another cup. Very aware that he is displeased about it considering his response beforehand, but the man doesn’t fight her on it. “I promise, I didn’t come to pick a fight.” She sits back down then, closer this time, placing their newly filled cups in front of them both.

“Back pedaling now that you feel your halo slipping? How _disappointing_.”

That comment does trip her a little. It’s bait, and she doesn’t quite know it yet. Not until she lunges right for it.

“My halo?” She scoffs, leaning back and folding her arms. “Now I know Monkey Fist comparing me to that of an angel _can’t_ be good.”

There’s a twist of his lips then, a pleased smirk knowing that there is a promising tug on the line.

“Come now, Kimberly. Is that _not_ your image? The… _expectation?_ Anything less and well…that just wouldn’t be acceptable, would it?” It’s a little more obvious now. He is stringing her along into territory she’s not willing to go into. Not yet.

“The same could be said for you. It would kill you to be nice, so you choose silence instead. Wouldn’t want to ruin _your_ reputation.”

His smile only grows, into something that is halfway between genuine and…evil. He leans forward over the table, making certain he’s got her full attention when he utters his next words.

“You are far more ** _fun_** when you _are_ looking to pick a fight.”

“What a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Her mother unknowingly interrupts as she steps through the sliding doors. The two linger in their stare before both easing and leaning back. “Everything is cleaned, Monty.”

“You have my gratitude, Mrs. Possible.” He responds in kind, with a hand placed over his chest and a bow of his head. Only his eyes remain on Kim, who can’t help but roll her eyes at the display he puts on.

“And Kim, Ron is upstairs. Want me to send him down?”

She nearly spits out her tea at that, rising from her seat and shaking her head.

“No, no…tell him I’ll be right there. Don’t…let him come down here.” Her tone very obviously reminding her mother that the two…cannot be in the same room. She nods and makes a face that confirms a previous conversation, and quietly goes back inside to keep her friend company.

Monkey Fist chuckles. A dark, twisted thing.

“I _would_ be flattered if you thought that even in the shape that I’m in, I’d pose a threat to your dear sidekick. But that’s not it, is it? Perhaps you’re realizing that you may have just found a safe haven. A place where halos aren’t a requirement, and you just don’t want to _share_ it.”

A tongue presses to the inside of her cheek. The man has successfully pierced her skin and managed to easily crawl beneath it. A mistake on her part, but just as well…an opportunity. His attempt, while successful, will not be the end of this. She moves back to her seat, getting a good look at the pleased expression on his face. Something she hadn’t seen in a long time.

“What was it that you said earlier? ‘ _Stop looking for something that isn’t there_ ’. You hate him as much as he hates you, therefor I won’t be putting my best friend in the line of fire.” She finishes her tea, placing the empty cup on the tray while holding his gaze that is far more amused than anything else.

“Enjoy your day, _Monty_.” She flashes him a grin, unafraid to step into territory that she might later regret: familiarity. She’s walking a fine line, and while she thinks she’s aware of it, it does frighten her that perhaps there are blind spots she is missing.

That all of this, while safe and harmless now, may rapidly change with no way to stop it.


	5. One Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a reminder that this story is influenced heavily by NoelleAngelFyre who writes the best monkey fist/Kim Possible. kim reading out loud to monty? sign me THE FUCK UP

“I still don’t trust him.”

“Join the club, Ron.” There is no mistaking the twinge of guilt she feels when she speaks, knowing that her words don’t reflect what she truly feels. Sure, there is still a landslide of distrust to be had for the man now living in her home, but she has seen a lot. Learned a lot. Still, Ron wouldn’t understand. She doesn’t expect him to. And so rather than attempt changing his perspective, she lets him vent.

“I mean…tutoring your brothers? Can’t they sniff out the evil that radiates off of him?” She has to nudge his shoulder as the volume of his voice attracts unwanted attention from the other patrons in the store.

“I wouldn’t call it tutoring so much as…enduring.” She’s careful not to defend the truth so much, keeping her attention on the rows of books they navigate through. A movie, lunch, and shopping have been the highlights of their day. A treat for themselves after their most recent mission which had taken its toll on both of them.

“Come on. You’re letting him win by constantly worrying about it.”

Yet here she is. Letting him win by scanning the books for something that might pique his interest. Ron doesn’t know that, of course, but it remains hidden inside. His words on repeat in her mind. Even then she is eager to return home. To continue their battle…whatever this battle _was_.

It had no name, and perhaps no purpose. But one thing was for certain; it was _fun_.

Ron grumbles in response, folding his arms and watching as Kim reads the back of a book before ultimately placing it back on the shelf.

“Why are you being so picky? We never spend more than five minutes in here. And when are you even gonna have the time to read? We already have to make up those days we missed.”

“Uh..make up? Is that _not_ what we were doing on the plane?” Kim shoots him a curious look, despite already know what his answer will be.

“Well…I mean I _was_ ….but, you know….I got a little distracted.” He scratches the back of his head, sheepishly thinking back to the in-flight options that had sucked up all of his time.

And while he’s lost in that memory, Kim is delighted in having finally found a book. She grins as she skims through the first couple of pages, almost certain that the man will be pleased with it. With a gentle slam of the cover, she looks over at Ron and hooks their arms together.

“Got it! Ready?”

She drags him to the counter so she can pay, and on departure they decide to treat themselves to a sweet treat in the park. Having run into a few friends on the way, she doesn’t make it home until the early evening. Just in time for dinner to be set on the table. Just as any other time she walks through the door, she greets her parents and allows for light conversation. The twins absent as they had decided to eat with the man downstairs– not the first time they had made the decision.

Kim finds herself distracted at the table, preparing for her next visit to the man who has taken up residence in her mind. Deciding whether or not it is best to do so while her brothers are there, or if she waits until they’ve left, is her internal struggle. Their presence does guarantee her some semblance of safety…but is that truly what she wants? Safety? Or is she still eager to step onto a high wire with no safety nets below?

She decides to play another card instead. Holding onto that gift, she won’t grant him the satisfaction of going to him again that day. _He can wait_ , she thinks. Even if there’s a quiet voice of doubt regarding whether or not she can be just as patient. All night she fights the temptation, busying herself with long phone calls and music. Anything to drain out the thoughts poking at her mind, pulling her towards that door and down those steps into his domain. And to her own surprise, she’s successful.

That is, until her lights are turned out and a flicker of red and yellow reflects upon her window.

Eyes narrow as she walks over to it, peering outside and seeing that their fire pit was lit. She had been wondering why her father had picked up a new propane tank earlier in the day. They hadn’t used the pit in sometime– mostly out of caution as the twins began abusing its purpose. It does amaze her that they have taken somewhat of a …liking to Monkey Fist. As if he is a dear friend and guest who’s allowances in their home are ever expanding. And she can see why they might feel that way, as they haven’t seen him the way _she_ has.

But, like any good host, she pulls on an oversized sweatshirt and goes to check on their guest. It isn’t exactly… _submitting_ , is it? And well, if she’s going to check on him, she might as well bring that book along too…right?

Instead of going through the basement, she steps out onto the deck outside of the kitchen where she peers over it and sees the culprit. The man at ease in front of the fire, looking up at her the moment her forearms brace against the railing. There’s no sneaking up on him. She can feel goosebumps blanket her legs due to the chilly air wrapping around her. The fire calls to her, but she knows that the man must welcome her to it.

“Can I join you?” She asks just loud enough for him to hear, respectful of the rest of her family who are surely asleep at this point. For a moment, she’s certain she can see him smiling, but the light of the flames licking his face make it unclear.

His hand extends towards the seat beside him, silently giving her his answer.

Kim smirks, pushing off of the railing and heading down the steps of the deck. She keeps the book tight against her chest, sighing happily when she’s stepped in to the bubble of heat that the fire offers. Taking her seat beside him, her legs fold in front of her, comfortably balled up on the chair as she watches him over her knees. He returns the stare in kind, watching her for a few long moments before shifting his attention back to the flames. He seems…at peace. Relaxed. _Tired_ , she is certain.

Her lips part, ready to ask him what’s on his mind. What exactly he is calculating behind stormy eyes. But with uncertainty of how he’ll react, she’s not willing to ruin whatever trance he’s found himself in. Instead, she shares her own thoughts.

“I have something for you.”

That gets his attention. A smirk pulling at his lips, he looks back at her and folds his arms. He watches as she holds the book up enough for him to see it, only the cover of it isn’t shown. A secret.

“Of _your_ choosing, I presume?” He scoffs, “I suppose it’s too late to mention my lack of interest in the romance of _poorly designed_ vampires.”

“I do recall you mentioning that you would ‘take anything’.” Kim reminds him with a knowing look that sees his smirk stretch just a little wider. “Not so desperate anymore?”

“Go on, then. I know you’re _dying_ to show me.”

“Not just yet.” She pulls the book back to her chest, watching his amusement falter briefly. “I have a request first.”

The man sighs and eases back into his seat, eyes staring at the flames. She takes it as her green light, allowing her to muster up the courage in her next words.

“Read all of it before you pass judgement, okay?”

Monty scoffs at that, extending his hand out and waiting for the book to be placed in it.

“Do you so fear my opinion?”

“Let me rephrase: I want _Monty Fiske’s_ opinion.” She smirks at him, finally pulling the book from her chest and handing it over to him. The man observes the title only, chuckling before placing it on the table nearby. He’ll be back in this spot tomorrow morning, eager to tear through it.

“ _‘Never Die’_. I hope you’ve chosen well. I won’t hold back.” He warns, but there is a lightness to his tone that eases her nerves. That tells her that there is a promise of honesty, that may not be as cruel as he insinuates. She thinks they will settle into a silence, and finds herself unprepared for the next string of words.

“Does it help to think you are separating man and monster? _Monty Fiske_. Whatever you are associating with that name, making you believe his opinion is more relevant than the man you now know, is a ** _lie_**.”

Her eyes go a little wide at that. Read like an open book. But she won’t back down or cower from the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it is.

“You were a nobleman. A renowned archaeologist and explorer.”

Monkey Fist laughs at that, holding his temples with thumb and forefinger, grinning as if it all amuses him. And in some way, it does.

“It was a _lie_ , Kimberly. I was being _suppressed_ by the requirements of society. Pretending to be what was requested of me. I found a way out of those chains a **_long_** time ago. I just made people believe they were still there.”

Kim’s eyes narrow at that. She keeps quiet, allowing herself to truly think over his, well, his admission. The clarity he so willingly offers to her.

“You’ve hurt people. You’ve hurt _me._ All on your quest to _power_. Is it so wrong that I’d rather talk to the part of you that isn’t–.”

“ _Evil?_ ” The man says it before she can. He looks up then, turning to cast his gaze upon her. Not one of insult or anger. One of expectation. An expectation that she listen…truly listen and understand.

“There is only one man, Kimberly. No matter what name you call me.”

The silence comes after that. Monkey Fist not looking to expand upon his explanation, and Kim not quite ready to hear more of it. She worries that perhaps she has begun clinging on to a side of him that may not be true. Or worse yet, that this is it. This is all of him. This ** _is_** the truth. Monkey Fist and Monty Fiske are one man, twisted and complicated– a shade of grey that looks darker some days more than others.

She rests in the chair, admittedly thinking more upon it than she’d have liked. Unaware that she takes a chunk of time do so, no longer cognizant of her time spent in front of that fire. The man watches her, allowing her the mental space necessary for her to deeply consider his words. But he does grow tired himself, and finally speaks to draw her out of her head.

“Exercise your worries another day. It’s time we both retire.”

Kim looks up at that, welcoming the sudden distraction with a raised brow and stretch of lips. “Worries? _Me?_ ” She jests despite the truth being utterly obvious.

“I wouldn’t believe it either if it were not written all over your face.” To her surprise, the man plays along… _nicely_. That’s something she can somewhat appreciate. And so she scoffs slightly before rising out of her chair and stretching her hands above her head.

She walks over to twist the knob, watching the fire die down until it is only reddened rocks that glow for short moments before turning cool. They are but mere shadows now, cloaked by darkness that slowly adjust to familiar shapes. Kim moves to stand before him, grabbing his crutch nearby to have it ready.

Silently, she offers her assistance.

She can feel him staring at her hard. Both acknowledging that her choice here is yet another move upon the board. Another decision taking them down an ever changing path.

The man grips the arms of his chair and rises. And for the first time in weeks, he towers over her. His frame, while not as nearly menacing as he once was at full functionality, still steals a breath from her. Carefully balancing on his good foot, he takes the crutch from her and sets it beneath his arm.

Her body betrays her then, letting out a shaky breath that triggers a smile even a blind man could see.

“ ** _Scared?_** ”

“ _Cold_.” She retorts before setting her jaw. She then turns slightly, positioning herself so that he could grab onto her. A grip that she tries her best to prepare for, but when a heavy arm comes around her neck, she knows that nothing would have prepared her for it. Reaching around his back, she carefully places a hand upon him, her other hand taking hold of a hairy wrist. Pressed to his side, she can hear the chuckle in the depths of his ribs. Before they move, Kim briefly removes her hand from his wrist and pulls red locks from beneath his arm before his weight undoubtedly tugs painfully at the roots. He allows it, and sets the pace with his first step.

“Do you miss it?” She asks after a few careful steps; her eyes watching the ground beneath them cautiously. “Training?”

“Every day.” He admits, “I’ve failed to think of anything worse than …being _immobilized_.” Kim can’t help but laugh lightly at that.

“ _I_ can.” She looks over and up at him, only to pull away so that she may close the sliding door shut behind them. When she moves back to him, he slides his hand beneath her hair and around her neck. Learning. _Adjusting_.

“Of that, I have no _doubt_.” She hates whatever ignites in her chest at the way those words rumble in her ear. The journey to his bed feels excruciatingly long, and yet when they arrive, there is something inside of her claiming it was far too short. Taking hold of the crutch, she steps away and places it against the wall, watching as he settles down onto the side of the bed with a grunt of pain.

“This is the part where you say ‘ _thank you for helping me, Kim_ ’.” She turns and smiles at him, knowing that those words were never going to come out of his mouth.

“Now, Kimberly, I _know_ you didn’t just help me for weightless gratitude.” Monkey Fist drawls in response, eyes following her like a hawk as she walks by him.

“Good night, Monty. I’ll be expecting a brutally honest review of that book next time I see you.” And with that, she doesn’t give him a chance to respond before climbing the stairs and pausingjust as she closes the door. A long breath exhales, and for a moment she places her hand over her chest as if to steady the rapid beating of her heart.

Fear…excitement…she’s not sure where to place it.

But his words stay with her. His truth resonates inside, and she will not so quickly forget it.

There is only one man.

———

To her surprise, Monkey Fist does give her his thoughts on the novel chosen. They aren’t as painful to hear, as he quite liked the story…but was thorough in his criticisms. It is discussed between them for a time in the presence of her brothers who stick around to work on business of their own. It keeps her safe with him. She quickly learns that keeping the man distracted within the topic of literature, for the most part, keeps his fangs safely tucked away.

And so she tasks herself for hunting down a different book. This time, she reads it first before handing it off to the man. Prepared for another in depth discussion where she will feel far more prepared for any debate. She can tell he appreciates that, and to further have that conversation– he reads through it like it’s nothing. She supposes that considering his extensive knowledge and interest in learning, reading is no big feat. The man was at one time a professional after all, and while his other passions had changed the course of his _career_ , his successes and titles still held meaning in his knowledge.

This goes on for a few weeks, delayed by missions and other personal obligations, but never forgotten. Before anyone fully knows it, the man reaches his two month mark. It no longer feels like a chore or rather…an elephant in the room. The man has in some ways meshed with their lives, and his presence has become somewhat of a normalcy. For them, at least. Monkey Fist continues to keep his guard up while remaining cordial with the family that helps him. The healing process has become frustrating, as his leg had made no evident progress. His lacerations however, while still raw, had made their recovery. With the stitches removed, and his back in far less pain, movement was becoming easier.

He was becoming more daring. Something Kim’s mother had warned him of. And to some extent, he heeded those warnings, but grew impatient when left to his own thoughts that, without fail, brought him back to his mistake. The moment of his failure. He craved redemption in his own eyes. And while there were times he felt obsessed with the notion, the distraction of the cheerleader did…help.

But seldom was their time spent alone. He was no fool. It was on purpose. Time alone with him frightened her– and not because he posed any threat of violence. No. Because she _enjoyed_ it. Her safe haven. And while one couldn’t just understand what would be so frightening about enjoying something, he knew. He _knew_. But it was out of his control. She chose when to see him. It was all on her terms. It was the one thing he felt he could be patient with. Her. Waiting for the moment she decides to step over those boundaries again. To trust him with a space only they knew. And that was the name of the game now: trust. For every physical allowance…every word spoken…is but another weapon added to a figurative armory.

Not that either of them have sought to use any of their collection just yet.

So caught up in her time with the man on top of everything else, Kim finds herself blind to the change in seasons and the upcoming holidays. She is relieved when Thanksgiving is dismissed this year, considering her mother opted to be on call and Kim herself is sent away for another mission. She’s almost certain that Monty is relieved as well, not wanting to be coerced into anything other than what he’s dealing with. However, those two months do take them to the threshold of Christmas, a holiday not so easily ignored.

Kim is careful not to bring it up, as involving a villain in Christmas plans was only meant to be a one time thing. And even then…it was…. _weird_. But that attempt only lasts so long. She sits on the sofa in the basement, quietly working on her assignments while Monty sits not far away, focused on another book picked for him. His ability to tune everything else out while still very much paying attention is… impressive. That focus is tested when the twins turn their attention away from their project and quiet conversation onto the man.

“Hey Monty, what do you want for Christmas?”

“Maybe we can try cloning you!”

“Or we can get you a tail, you know, to go with your hands and feet!”

The two, without filter, present their ideas which are met with a smirk from the man who looks up at them.

“Somehow I think _both_ of those things are ** _far_** out of your budget.” He replies coolly, setting down his book to give them his full attention. The boys exchange thoughtful looks, but before any other ideas can spark, Monty speaks again.

“Do **_not_** go buying me anything. I will refuse any gifts.” His voice is a little stricter then, but nothing that puts off the twins.

“What? Why? Gifts are the best part!”

“And the food!”

“Is it ‘cause you won’t be here?”

“Are you going back to go back and celebrate with your family?”

“No.” The man answers dryly, “I’ll be stuck here with **_you_**.”

“Then why don’t _we_ bring them _here_?”

Kim looks up at that, watching the man carefully. Her brothers are poking and prying, and while the man has proved his composure before, she is ever careful incase it begins to falter.

“Because they don’t **_exist_**. It’s just me.”

She…doesn’t expect that.

“Just you?” Tim pipes up again.

“You don’t have any family? But how?” Jim is just as surprised.

“Not even an annoying sister?”

Monty chuckles at that, all three of them looking over at her and grinning. Kim makes a face, opting to be the bigger person and not bothering with a response.

“No. Not even that. They’re all _dead_.”

Tim and Jim exchange another look, this time with a worried nature about it.

“Dead?”

“Dead how?”

“All of them?”

“What happened?”

The man lets out an annoyed breath before straightening up and looking them hard in the eye. “You _really_ want to know what happened?” They both nod their heads excitedly, despite the subtle fear in their eyes of the truth.

“Well you see…I never did tell you how I got these, did I?” He shows them his hands, watching as they answer ‘no’ with a shake of their heads. “It’s a long story, you understand. In short, my father, a crazed geneticist who grew bored of experimenting on simian beings, decided instead to select that of the human race to conduct his tests on. What better than his own son? No expense, no risk to the public eye. It was perfect. Taking my hands and feet, he told me that this…this was a gift.”

Kim finds herself wrapped up in a story that she knows is…just _not_ true. But there is a reason for it. There is something in it, however. The man isn’t pulling this fantasy from out of nowhere. What that is, she’s not certain yet…and so she continues to listen.

“And in some ways…it _was_. But you’ll find that the hands of a simian being aren’t built the way yours are. They are… ** _stronger_**. So much so that it takes _years_ of adjustment to hold even a teacup without it shattering at the slightest touch. Of course, my father would never learn that soon enough. None of them would. Because you see…I didn’t _like_ very much what my father had done to me. And one day….something had triggered inside of me. An…instinct. A sudden release for my anger, taken in the form of revenge for what he’d done to me. I remember it clearly…how easily the skin peeled from his face with one strike,” Monty swipes his hand in front of Jim who dodges it quickly with a yelp.

“And who knew how easily a limb could be ripped from that of a grown human?” His other hand reaches for Tim who also backs up with a terrified screech. With both hands flexed, he flashes them a look of pure evil.

“Now that I think about it…a child’s wouldn’t take much **_at all_**.” His hands lunge at them but the two let out a scream and jet towards the stairs.

Kim is completely amused by it, laughing as she watches her brothers sprint, trip, then sprint again up the stairs. Monty is just as thrilled by the reaction, grinning to himself as he leans back to pick up his book, returning to where he had left off.

“That was cruel.” Kim laughs, shaking her head and looking back down at her work.

“It did the job.” Monty muses, glancing over at her, quietly noting that for the first time in a while…they were both now alone. “Besides…it wasn’t all _untrue_.”

Kim looks back up at him. He’s left an opening for her, and it couldn’t be more obvious. Intentional. Twisting her pen in hand, she rises to the bait and tilts her head.

“You _didn’t_ kill your father.” Is the first thing she can think to say. The one thing that she hopes is not the truth. The man is dangerous, violent, unhinged…but to kill his own blood? She’s not sure that fits him.

“No. But he _was_ a bastard.”

She’s quietly relieved at that, and doesn’t jump at the new information she’s just learned. It’s more than he’s allowed…ever. A piece of him… just for her. And out of respect for such a gift, she doesn’t pry.

“You know…they do bring up a good point. My family does do the whole… _holiday_ thing. And considering you’re staying here, I’m sure they’ll want to make you feel…involved.”

“Yes. And the very thought is _sickening_.”

Kim smirks at that response, “Okay, Scrooge. I’ll talk to them.”

“I’m fully capable of doing so myself.” Monty argues, “Though I suppose I’ll leave it to _you_ to remind them not to allow that buffoon over here.”

“Well, you won’t need to worry about that. I go to _his_ on Christmas.”

That brings an….unexpected silence to the room. She chances a look over her knees where her notebook sits, seeing the man with a look of annoyance plastered on his face. Not looking at her, nor the book. What she said has ticked him. It does quietly worry her, knowing now that there is no one there to reconsider any words or actions he would otherwise withhold. She can almost feel it coming. Hear his blood beginning to boil. And so she sets her work down, rising to move closer to him. Reaching over, she takes hold of the book on his lap, turning it back over and skimming the pages.

“Where did you leave off?”

It seems to have worked, as the annoyed expression on his face simmers away momentarily. He points to the paragraph indicating his place on the page, watching her make herself comfortable before she begins to read it to him. A _delightful_ surprise. One he accepts and savors. His arms cross over his chest, and his eyes close. Focusing solely on the sound of her voice, and the way her words continue to craft the story already visualized in his mind. It’s…soothing.

It’s about an hour that she sits there and reads it aloud, words already read that she presents to him for the first time. And once that hour passes, she can feel herself begin to lose the battle with sleep. Her eyes become lidded, and the words on the page begin to blur. She stops while she’s ahead, putting a marker on the page before closing it and leaning back into the sofa with it wrapped in her arms and resting against her chest. She can feel him shifting beside her, his eyes coming into view as he turns to lean over her, gently pulling the book from her hold. There’s a smirk on his lips, amused with her now vulnerable state that she’s allowed him to step into.

She wonders if it is a mistake not to guard herself. To prepare for what he could do or say in this moment.

“Go to bed.” The words come soft and gentle, and not without a trace of that smile within them. And so she listens, without another a thought. And even in her heavy daze, she can feel his eyes upon her as she collects her things and gives him a tired wave over her shoulder.

One that leaves him grinning like a madman.


	6. Christmas

The basement is off limits.

Renovation, is the excuse they give to friends and family who join them on Christmas evening. All of which don’t think anything of it, and keep to the remainder of the warm house decorated modestly and filled with with foods and drinks made from both host and guests. It’s a pleasant gathering, but exhausting considering the previous couple of weeks were filled with preparations, missions, and more school work. Time to herself has somewhat vanished, but even then she made sure that this day would pass smoothly. Which meant making sure that her parents obeyed Monkey Fist’s wishes as to not be involved. He had spoken to them, and while polite and well mannered– she knew they would need a little more convincing. His conversation would only inspire them further that he deserved a little _something_.

Thinking she had done her job, she had spotted the hidden gift beneath the tray of breakfast brought down to him. Later she learns that it is simply a black crew neck sweatshirt. ‘ _Something of his own_ ’, is how her mother had pitched it. And due to the fact that she had surfaced with a smile and all limbs intact, it confirms that even against his wishes, he was appreciative of the small notion.

They leave him alone, however, focusing on the holiday and not wanting to push their luck. The twins are tasked with bringing him whatever he’d like from the smorgasbord in the kitchen. Of course, her brothers don’t exactly ask, and begin to fill up plates of different choices to bring down to him. She suspects that they may in fact be joining him. And that is later confirmed when she spots them sneaking down with their new gaming console. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit her envy. They get to sneak away from all of the family affairs while she’s allowed to sport one glass of champagne and mingle with the adults.

Of course, in an hours time she will be allowed to depart and join Ron for their own tradition kept through the years. She’s eager to get out of her dress, a long sleeved black fit and flare that stops just above her knees. While it was nice to dress up and present another yearly version of herself to her extended family, she wanted nothing more than to finally slip back into her own skin and relax with her best friend. She’s lost in that thought when suddenly a bottle of champagne is slipped into her arms. Looking up, she sees her mother smiling at her.

“Why don’t you go bring that to Monty? And make sure the twins plan on coming back at some point.”

Relief and worry flood her simultaneously. Happy to step away and see the man, while also not prepared to address the fact that they’ve not spent much time together. Somehow she knows he won’t hold it against her, but it does scare her a bit to think that the momentum of truce may have slowed. Rising, she takes the bottle and makes sure to grab a glass from the kitchen on her way to the basement door. She makes certain to check over her shoulder, not wanting anyone to spot her while she makes her way down the steps.

Monkey Fist does hear the door upstairs open, but his focus remains on the screen in front of him. Comfortably seated on the sofa with the two twins on the floor, all three of them with controllers in hand and playing the new racing game gifted to them that morning. Monty was coerced into it, of course, at first watching until the air of competition became unavoidable. It is admittedly enjoyable for him, especially as he watches the two boys complain about losing now that they have brought on this third player.

“What a surprise. Snuck away at the first opportunity, huh?” He hears her voice and smirks, glancing over at her to at least acknowledge her presence. But he stops, realizing that he has clearly not let his eyes linger long enough to fully _see_ her. He instantly looks back over to her, watching her walk into the room looking absolutely…. _stunning_. It’s quite annoying the lack of control he has over his face in that moment. His jaw hanging just slightly as he drinks in the sight of her. The dress form fitting and nothing less than complimentary to her. He doesn’t expect it. Like a ton of bricks it just… _hits_ him.

“ ** _Yes!_** ” The twins’ exclamation snaps him out of it, looking to the screen to see that his moment of distraction cost him his winning streak. He lets out an annoyed breath, resting the controller on his lap and admitting silent defeat.

“And how did they manage to drag _you_ into this?” Kim takes a seat by his side, presenting to him the bottle of sparkling wine. Monty grins, still shaking off the shock of what her presence has suddenly ignited inside of him. Kim Possible of all people…the very thought amuses him.

“It didn’t take much. I do **_love_** winning.” He earns two dramatic looks from her brothers who take a moment to snack on the food they had brought down for him. The man takes the bottle from her, noting the glass in her hand as he moves it away from them to pop it open safely. “ _Just_ the one..?”

“I’m only _allowed_ the one, and believe me…it went quick.” Kim explains, surprised when his hand reaches over to take the one holding the glass, guiding it up so that he may pour the cool liquid inside of it. He then releases her when it’s filled, lifting the mouth of the bottle up as a quiet ‘cheers’ between them.

“Champaign is _meant_ to be shared.” He offers before tipping his head back and drinking right from the bottle. She lets out a soft chuckle at that, sipping her own glass before reaching into his lap and collecting the controller.

Boundaries are being tested, and in _front_ of the twins no less. He grins at the closeness of her form, a quiet show of trust. It had been about a week since they’d spoken, but he feels that this brief moment is making up for all of that now.

“Alright, let’s see what you guys got.” Kim addresses her brothers who are snapped back into focus, quickly setting up a new race. She sets down the glass on the coffee table, leaning forward and focusing on the task at hand. Monty is given quite the view then. His eyes following the curves of her back. A harmless act, as no one but him can see what he sees in that moment. The temptation to reach out his hand and feel the covered flesh upon his palm is strong. But he refrains, taking another swig of the bottle and forcing himself to watch the race.

To _behave._

She wins, of course.

Sporting a grin as she leans back and tends to her glass, watching her brothers grumble in defeat before starting up yet another game. This time the two don’t participate, and instead enjoy the sweet bubbly liquid courage. She turns to him and surveys the sweatshirt he’s wearing, smirking at the very small and missable logo stitched in the form of a monkey.

“I did my best to stop them.” She offers, her fingers moving to trace over the stitching that sits over his chest.

He watches her intently, wondering if it is the drink or something else that sees her become so… _daring_. He won’t question it, of course. The closeness, the touch…impossible to know whether or not it is coming from her in totality. And he only _wants_ it from her. Not from the distortion offered by the wine. The hand closest to her slides over her lap, drifting upon the fabric and sliver of soft skin before taking hold of the controller she had put down at her side and carefully bringing it back to him. And while she does feel lighter from her previous drink, there is no mistaking the intention of that hand that brushes over her. If it were not for her current state, she’s certain she would overanalyze it, and see it for what it is.

“I don’t mind it.”

Whether he’s referring to the gift, or the sudden touch of delicate fingers to his person, she’s not quite sure. Their eyes never turn away from one another, but she is the first to break into a small smile, pulling away from him just enough to ease the air building around them. Her eyes look to the clock, and immediately he knows what comes next. All she needed was to bring it up once and his mind, against his own wishes, continues to be fixated on it.

“They really love Christmas, you know.” She then speaks, low enough for only Monty to hear while she watches her two younger brothers. “Thanks for not being a _total_ Scrooge.”

Monty scoffs at that, secretly hating the compliment that insinuates his… _goodness_ is showing. But it does make her happy. It **_does_** bring her closer to him. And that, he cannot deny, is something of a reward.

“Consider it a gift of my own. From me to _you_.” He challenges with his own grin, making his mark. Assuring her that this decision is no longer one of his own, but that of which he knew would make her happy. And it is. It’s all part of the game, after all. She does roll her eyes at him, saying a goodbye to her brothers who are still very much distracted with the screen.

He watches her walk away, and when she turns to glance back at him, he doesn’t divert his gaze. He makes sure that she knows where his attention is. Only lost when she is out of sight and that door is heard closing behind her.

———

She’s happy finally being out of that dress and relaxing with Ron. Sobering up from the champaign doesn’t take too long, but getting her mind off the man is a different struggle. It’s as if he’s still sitting right beside her, watching her, sharing innocent touches that engulf her skin in flames. She wants to hate how that feels, and how it feels as though it’s coming from nowhere. But she is just as guilty of it all, and she knows it. Is this what he wanted all along? To seize her mind and a piece of her heart locked away for him to enjoy?

Ron unknowingly does a good job of distracting her, while the two play board games and discuss the current drama at school. In some ways she doesn’t want to go home. She doesn’t want to face the reality there waiting for her. And that reality is that the man has cast her under a spell. Yet, she’s eager to go back. To feel those hands again, to be subject to his gaze.

And **_why_**?

 _This is Monkey Fist_ , she tries to remind herself. Who is undoubtedly bored enough to resort to playing games with his host. Who would rather see her cry in pain beneath his grip rather than discuss literature with her. Who, more than anything, lusts for a power that sees all others fall before him.

But her mind, her rationality, loses in its battle against every other part of her. There’s a feeling there that won’t go down so easily.

Kim decides to spend the night there, giving herself no option but to stay clear of the man while the feelings are at their strongest. Even upon wakening, and hopeless wishes, they don’t simmer away.

Though as if the universe is listening to her, she is given another way out. A mission. One that sees her across the world yet again. Even through the New Years holiday. Less than a week away but just enough to reset her priorities upon coming home.

However, returning home does reignite those suppressed emotions somewhat, as she knows she will need to face them and the one who holds the match at some point. But for now, she steps into her home and just like every other time, makes her way to the kitchen. Her brothers are found sitting at the table, racing through their bowls of cereal.

“Boys.” She greets flatly, feeling the weight of exhaustion from the long trip. Walking to the fridge and seeing it open, she leans against the counter and exhales softly.

“Hey dad. Coffee?” She rubs her head, not at all prepared for her to look up and watch the door close. The man standing there most certainly **_not_** her father. The grin on his face is almost infuriating.

“’Dad’? _That’s_ a new one. Heh. _Coffee?_ Oh, but I’m afraid not. Will you settle for tea?”

Her eyes go wide, and her first instinct is to scream. But she manages to keep it trapped inside of her, as well as the singular breath that she intakes. The man stands shirtless in her kitchen, holding onto a half eaten apple. Before she can even think to react, her actual father walks in with an equally as bright grin.

“Hey Kimmy! I see you’ve just found out the good news.” He walks around to embrace her, kissing the top of her head while her eyes remain locked with Monty. All too pleased to watch this all unfold.

“Uh…Not quite..” Finally, she’s able to look down and see that there is no longer a cast upon the man’s leg. And instead, a boot. This…changes things. A sudden change that she hadn’t even the chance to prepare for.

“Dr. Gruber stopped by the other day and took Monty’s cast off. While there’s still a long journey ahead, we reached a pretty big mile stone.” Her father flashes the man a genuine smile, one that Monty responds to with a polite bow of his head. “We felt a bit daring today, and figured what better test than to get up the steps?” He rubs her shoulder, grinning wide.

“You’re sure it isn’t too….early?” She asks quietly, looking to her dad who waves the question off.

“Nonsense! Oh, and Monty, I’d love a cup if you’re brewing.”

“Already ahead of you.” The man takes another bite of his apple, his eyes lingering upon the still frozen cheerleader who struggles to take in what is happening around her, before turning to collect the recently heated kettle.

She takes the opportunity then to grab her father’s arm, pulling him away to speak lowly while their guest tends to the drinks.

“Dad…you need to be careful. Need I remind you what this guy can do?” She almost cringes at her own hypocrisy, and gains an equally suspicious look from her dad.

“Kim, I’ve already seen what he can do. And while I wasn’t thrilled about it in the beginning, Monty _has_ proven himself to be…well…not _all_ bad. Now I don’t disagree that we shouldn’t be so quick to let our guards down, but trust can’t be built if the risks aren’t taken. So far he hasn’t given us any reason not to take those little risks.” He sets a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it with confidence.

“Now I’m not so sure everyone is capable of change…but I do know that all of us have parts of ourselves that we don’t often get to share with others.”

Oh, Kim has seen a different side alright. It’s that very fact that sees her internal struggle so difficult. But she hears her father out, nodding her head before turning around to see the man placing her father’s mug on the counter. He gives her another encouraging squeeze of his hand before brushing past her to collect his drink. Thanking the monkey master before heading back into his study.

The sound of another mug meeting the marble top draws her attention back to the man. The grin on his lips sees her insides twist; realizing now that whatever control she thought she had over her exposure to him has been removed completely. As if the board has been reset.

“For you.” He offers, gesturing to the drink that sits far too close to him. The twins are nearby which gives her some assurance, allowing her to step back into the kitchen to collect her drink. The moment she approaches, the man leans on the counter, his eyes almost level with her own.

“Thought you’d be happier. It’s all one step closer to having me out of your hair, no?” And there it is, the words that keep her right where she is. No easy escape this time.

“It’s one thing seeing you in my basement. Another when you’ve suddenly got free rein over the house. I wasn’t really… _prepared_ for that.” She admits, her fingers sliding around warm ceramic that do bring her some ease.

“Oh _please_. This thing may as well be a ball and chain. Don’t worry, Kimberly. I won’t be going anywhere far.” He smirks at that, his eyes shifting to look over her shoulder at the twins. “Not that either of _them_ would let me.”

Kim chuckles softly, looking over his shoulder to her brothers who are currently sat observing what looks like stolen tech from her dad’s office. 

“The story about your rampage didn’t stick?” She muses, “Maybe the _truth_ might serve you differently.”

“Mmm, perhaps. But _where_ is the fun in that?”

Kim rolls her eyes, feeling that warm annoyance creep back into her. The gentle conversation urging her to stick around, but her mind somehow wins this time. Picking up the tea, she steps away and looks back at him.

“I need to go sleep off the past six days. _Thank you_ for the tea.” She shares with him a soft smile, more so in the eyes rather than her lips.

Monkey Fist thinks to combat that, and to find reason for her to stick around. But instead he opts for silence, returning the kind words with a sinister twist of his lips.

A look that follows her up those steps and into her bed. She manages a few sips before giving in to sleep– sound hours that carry her into the early evening. She had missed dinner by the looks of it, seeing the sun nearly done setting. While her stomach does encourage her to head down, she showers and changes into something warm. Feeling relaxed as she takes the cup of cold tea down into the kitchen to drain it. Her mother lingers, cleaning up while also warming Kim’s own meal that was kept for her. With a soft ‘thanks’, she pours out the mug, looking over towards the living room where she is surprised to see Monkey Fist lounging in more of her dad’s clothes, that are obviously too small for him, and reading a book.

She has half a mind to enjoy her meal in the kitchen to let him have his focus, but it’s at the last moment hat she takes her bowl of food into the dark room lit only by the lamp over his shoulder. Despite being mindful and sitting on the opposite end of the sofa, his sudden inhale tells her that in some way that focus was broken. Her back rests against the arm of the sofa, her knees brought up and facing him. The moment she looks up again, their eyes meet. It spooks her enough to divert her gaze towards the cover of the book instead, brows raising as she reads it.

“You fought me pretty hard on that one. Change your mind?” Kim asks, not having seen the man reread anything while he’s been there. And before she realizes why, he beats her to the punch.

“Well you see, my book supplier has been rather… _unreliable_ as of late.” Monkey Fist shoots her a look at that, “What with…saving the world or… ** _whatever_**.”

She can find the humor in his words, shaking her head at the overdramatic statement. “Even so, you could have picked any other one. Why that one?”

“Embracing the challenge of seeing _whatever it is_ that **_you_** see in this. Before you ask, it’s proving rather unsuccessful.” There’s a compliment in there somewhere, she thinks. But to go searching for it would be dangerous. So instead, she scoffs and gets up to discard her bowl, afterwards walking back to the man and gently pulling the book from his grip. It’s then replaced with a hand, offered down to him.

“Come on. I’ve got a better suggestion in the meantime.” She’s met with a curious gaze, one that turns delighted by his own suspicions. He takes the hand and rises from the sofa, following the cheerleader towards the basement door. His grin grows even wider, excited by what awaits them in the depths of the house, safely out of sight.

He’s not sure what to expect, especially when a gentle shove is given to his chest, seeing him sit on yet another sofa.

“Now you’re just _teasing_.” Monty muses, quietly delighted by how this is all unfolding. Kim ignores those words the best she can, retrieving what is packed away in a nearby storage closet. The box is then set on the coffee table, seeing the man’s toothy grin beam up at her.

“You _really_ want to try your luck, hm? Very well. White or black?”

Kim is by no means a master of chess, but like most other things– she does well in holding her own. Playing with Monty proves to be as challenging as a physical fight with him. Both take their time for each turn, sitting in silence for a long while as they both observe the board. She hates the way she smiles when he compliments a move, even if he comes back to undo all of it with one thoughtful plan. He wins that first game, grinning at his victory before helping her reset the board.

“Give yourself more time.” His voice sounds out when her hand moves to make her next choice. She looks up at him, seeing him laying back with hands folded behind his head. “Chess should never be rushed. Don’t execute your decision until you’ve played out the consequences of it.”

“Hmm… _genuine_ advice from Lord Monty Fiske? Never thought I’d see the day.” Kim withdraws her hand at his words, catching the smile on his lips as she looks upon the pieces.

“Don’t get too excited. No advice I could give you will help you _beat_ me.”

They share a glance then, one of a competitive nature. And while he may be true in his words, that won’t stop Kim from trying. And she does try. Some games end quicker than others, but the board is always reset. Both eager to compete. A couple of hours in and another loss on her hands, she sighs and yet again waits for him to make the first move.

“How’d you get so good at this?”

“As with anything else, Kimberly, _practice_. I learned the rules at a very young age, but didn’t care for playing. What child wants to sit for _hours_ just to move flimsy pieces around?” He makes his move, his eyes focused on the board. “I didn’t care for it until I realized the skill could be utilized outside of the game itself.”

“You mean in martial arts?” Kim asks, biting down on her lower lip as she thinks carefully over her decision.

“That, _yes_. But with people as well.”

That distracts her for a moment, seeing emerald eyes look back up at him.

“Ominous, much?”

“People are predictable, Kimberly. They have routines and they have rules. And while all players are different, the game and the rules stay the same.” They both ignore the board then, Kim focused on the man who speaks with honesty– even if there is a dark undertone beneath the surface.

“If that’s the case, then what’s the win? What can possibly measure that?” Her voice is soft and curious, trying to see out the man’s belief.

“It’s not about winning. It’s making sure that you never **_lose_**. Staying even just a few moves ahead….you’re protected, and _never_ unprepared. Nothing can hurt you.”

“I’ve found a lot can be learned through both loss… _and_ hurt. Don’t you think you’re depriving yourself of that knowledge trying to avoid them both?”

Kim challenges him gently, thankful for his brief silence which confirms that he doesn’t completely disagree with her. But he does fold his arms over his chest, leaning back to the cushions and thinking. Planning his next move…or perhaps the next three.

“Both have taught me _enough_.” Is his response, and with that he does not elaborate.

That…surprisingly pains Kim to hear. Yet again she finds those emotions, so well suppressed she had thought, flooding back into her. Leveling with the man of violence. It sees her rise to her feet, walking around the coffee table to join him on the sofa. She sits close, her shoulders turned to face him, leaning into the cushion and watching him carefully.

“Okay. Like what?”

Monkey Fist scoffs at that, turning to look at her with narrowed eyes.

“Oh you are _relentless_ , aren’t you? So eager to find the roots, and I have no doubt that if I were anyone else, you’d be successful.” He shifts his shoulders to face her then, a lazy grin resting on his lips.

She does return some form of a smile, one that shows both disappointment and exhaustion. It is late hours of the night now, and despite sleeping through most of the day, her body craves her bed yet again.

“Are you afraid of me finding them? Or of what you think I’ll do when I’m successful?” She asks softly, truthfully.

The man’s grin remains, his hand closest to her lifting and chancing the trace of his knuckle against her jaw. A delicate movement that keeps Kim still, and her heart racing.

“I do admire your resolve, Kimberly. But I don’t **_break_** easily.”

Her hand reaches up to take the one upon her face, bringing it down and away, while still resting upon it as both reach the cushion beneath them.

“I’m not trying to break you.” She almost whispers the words, her thumb sliding over warm knuckles before withdrawing her hand completely.

The grin on his face disappears at that, further so when she pulls away from him. Silence is broken by the soft sound that escapes Kim’s throat as she stretches her arms over her head. Blue eyes follow her as she rises to collect the pieces, neatly packing the board up but leaving the box on the table. She turns to him then,

“Tomorrow?”

Monkey Fist exhales deeply, slumping back into the sofa and faced with words heavier than he had anticipated. A move he didn’t see.

“Tomorrow.” He confirms before silently watching her leave.


	7. Trust

_“I’m not trying to break you.”_

He had never known the girl to be a liar. But Monkey Fist can’t escape from her voice. Can’t find any peace in his bed as those words repeat over and over. Fixated on them…obsessively combing through every syllable to find what he knows is hidden. For why else would she tell him such a thing? Wanting to find a way inside, to slip through carefully welded armor. To hurt him from the inside _out_. Surely that _must_ be it. And the very moment he draws that conclusion, more than once, the soft touch of fingers is felt upon his skin.

Words of their own, written into his flesh. A promise that the words uttered are _honest_. That they see and respect the armor that is there, and that the man within it is safe. At least from _her_.

By the time his mind allows for sleep, the sun is already creeping through the windows. He sleeps for the better half of the day, waking due to the discomfort of the boot on his leg. Growling as he sits up, he carefully removes it– looking upon purple skin littered with stitches. The sight of it disgusts even him, and so he doesn’t spend much time observing it before grabbing his crutch and moving into the washroom.

He takes a long shower. Carefully keeping his injured leg from the spray of water and delicately cleaning it afterwards with salves and a cloth. The boot is immediately put back on after he dresses in fresh clothes, sporting the very crew neck afforded to him. Given that it is the only thing that fits right, it has become his favored article to wear. With the stability of the boot, he goes back to the sink, giving himself a shave and hissing as he pats down smoothed skin with the aftershave available. Not a scent he’d have usually chosen, but finds it is better than nothing.

When he’s finished, he gives himself a hard look in the mirror. His hair has become a little more unruly, his face a little more sullen due to the drastic change in his daily routine. But he is still there. He is still… _him_. The same man he saw in the mirror months ago, before all of this. Only before he turns away completely, he can’t help but continue to look. Searching…trying to find whatever it is that _she_ sees.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

He hadn’t been so unaware of the door opening and the steps coming closer. But he knew they didn’t belong to Kim’s, and paid no real mind to it. Still, he is addressed, and so he turns to see her mother standing near his bed. Carefully, he walks back into the room, his eyes landing on the bed where clothes had been deposited. _New_ clothes.

“I can’t accept this.” The words come before his mind fully processes what he’s looking at.

Her mother laughs, “Sure you can. Even _I_ suffocate a little watching you wear James’ clothes. You’ll be far more comfortable in these. How’s the leg?”

Monkey Fist folds his arms. He’s not thrilled with this. They have done enough for him already, to the point where he is certain there is a debt to be paid by the end of it all.

“Still **_ugly_**.” He utters, “And this damned thing is proving quite the hinderance.”

She takes to folding the clothes while listening to him, exchanging them for her husband’s that sit in the nearby dresser. “Well, if you think you won’t move around much, try taking it off while you sleep. The wounds do need some fresh air.”

He looks down at it, not wanting to risk doing anything that may set his recovery back. Still he nods at the suggestion, before instantly driving back his previous point.

“I will pay you back. I assure you, your money will not be wasted.”

She smiles and shakes her head, “Monty. It’s not a waste. And I assure _you_ , we won’t be accepting any payments. Now, join us for lunch?”

There’s no stopping the displeased look on his face, clearly annoyed. Still, he lets out a tense breath and follows her up the steps where at the top are two grinning and mischievous faces waiting for him. He can’t help but grin upon seeing them, ready for whatever earful they’ll give him.

Kim sits at the table, chin resting in the heel of her palm. Tired from the night before, where sleep did not come as kindly either. Weekend or not, obligations stole her from a morning in bed. Early cheer practice and a trip into town with her mother seized her time. Not all of it in vein, of course, as she was able to keep her promise and find the man a new book. And not only that, but had gently urged her mother to reconsider the clothes they had been lending to Monty.

She smirks thinking back to the horrified look on her mother’s face. A guest? _Uncomfortable_ in her own home? Well, she couldn’t have _that._

There’s a tap on her shoulder then, having her turn to look up and see the very man standing beside her. Her first instinct is to smile, but fear of not knowing where the two stand sees her simply obeying the silent request of moving further into the booth. He joins in next to her, booted leg comfortably resting from outside the table. Green eyes land on the hands that rest over the tabletop, and she finds herself thinking back to that touch. His skin upon her her own. Delicate…and _unafraid._

While she’s lost in that very thought, the man turns to look at her with narrowed eyes. “ _You_ wouldn’t have anything to do with those clothes your mother bought for me today, now would you?”

He isn’t angry, which is a relief, but she does give him a sheepish grin…unable to hide the guilt. “I _may_ have mentioned to her that you looked like an overgrown toddler in pajamas.”

“A **_what?_** ” She covers her mouth to chuckle at his reaction, knowing that every inch of him wanted to lunge at her in that moment. With a roll of his eyes, he scoffs and turns ahead to fold his arms over his chest. “A toddler? Ridiculous. Though I suppose I needn’t _remind_ you who bested whom last night?” His voice dips a little lower, careful to keep those words just between the two of them.

She does grin in response, meeting those knowing eyes that glance upon her. “Oh, how _impressive_. Beating the cheer captain. Very well done, **_Lord Fiske_**.” She meets his tone with her own, sarcasm at full flight while her smile beams at him. That earns her a hint of a smirk and a low growl, the man dropping the subject on that note before turning to intercept the plate her mother brings over. He slides it gently towards Kim before accepting his own.

They both eat quietly, her mother joining them not soon after. She engages in polite discussion with Monty, which always amazes Kim to see how…civil he can be. Even after they had finished, the man rises and collects their plates– insisting that he at least clean them much to her mother’s displeasure. Kim watches him with a soft grin, still quietly thinking over their words shared the night before. His insistence of keeping his history secret. Experiences that have surely crafted him into the man she sees. All sides of him. And now more than ever, she does know that there is indeed _more_.

Her mother departs, leaving Kim to rise and walk over to the man with folded arms. “Monkey Fist washing dishes. I’m going to remember this image forever. You know, if you keep this up I’m not sure they’ll ever let you leave.”

She sees that grin over his shoulder, coming into full view as he turns and dries his hands. “Surely you’re not suggesting I act the way you’ve so **_kindly_** warned against?”

“I think even if you did, they’d still hold out hope for you.” Kim turns to fetch him the book selected for him, but is brought to a sudden stop when a hand latches on to her wrist. With a terrifying force, she is yanked back, almost landing right into the man’s chest before her jaw is intercepted by his free hand. The movement steals the breath right out of her lungs, a gasp that is caught in her throat when she stares into the blue eyes that watch her with delight. Her free hand grabs for his wrist, trying to find some semblance of control but feeling ultimately powerless within his grip.

Her fear in that moment isn’t what he will do, as his hands feel controlled and with no intention to harm. But it does come from whatever is working behind those eyes, and that this display will quickly unravel the trust she and her family have blindly put into this man. But he doesn’t say anything. Not yet.

He’s _testing_ her.

And that becomes evident as she watches him carefully.

“Holding out hope for me too, **_are you_** Kimberly?” His voice is low, his hand sliding down her jaw until it finds her throat. The movement sees her tense, lips parting to let out a soft sound she can’t control. The thumb upon her jugular slides down and over the ridges of her throat, and for an instance she has the temptation to fight him off. To take back all that she had given to him. But she doesn’t. She stays within his hold, playing along to his game.

“Nnh…sounds like you’re asking me to reveal my move.” Her hand moves from his wrist, tracing over his fingers where hers hook onto his own. Gently, she peels them off, leveling the playing field in some small way. “Did you think I took away _nothing_ from last night?”

Monkey Fist’s lips twitch into a grin as she surprises him once again. He finally releases her wrist, but steps further into her space, her fingers still holding onto his own. Kim backs up, her mind telling her that this is the time to get away. To break out of the sudden hurricane he’s drawn her into. But her body refuses, remaining trapped against the counter now, while the man who has nested beneath her skin for weeks now burrows even further.

“I think you may have taken **_more_** than you realize.” He leans closer to her, fingers slipping between her own, palms sliding together.

She’s never been so thankful to hear the stampede of her brother’s footsteps coming down the stairs. Monkey Fist backs off, but it is her who releases her hand from his own. Kim feels as if she needs to catch her breath, her heart thundering hard against her chest.

_Did that…really just happen?_

It feels like some sort of fever dream. The heat of his breath upon her skin, the burning touch of his own. That look in his eyes…one that she had briefly seen before. Any sane person would have seen a fault, would have looked at that display as a breach of contract. Would have found that the man’s true face was still there. But Kim doesn’t see it that way. Kim has felt that anger in his grip, and she has seen the look in his eyes that promise relentless destruction.

That…was _neither_ of those things.

The twins run into the kitchen, posing like what seems to be the sweetest little angels that Kim was blessed to have as brothers. They’re about to ask her something, and Kim internally pleads that it is anything that will get her out of that kitchen where the tension suffocates her.

As **_if_** she isn’t in some form enjoying it. Even then the man stands over her, close enough still to keep her on her toes. She’s relieved when they ask her to take them to the mall, thinking of feigning annoyance, but knowing that the man beside her would see right through it. After agreeing, they run off to grab their things and before she allows the man to jump at the first opportunity, she turns to him and attempts fighting off the shake in her voice.

“The book is in my bag.” It’s all she can manage before stepping away and hoping he won’t pull her back in. She doesn’t look back as she grabs her coat and keys, leaving the house and finding solitude in her car. Alone, just for a few moments.

Alone, with his words that mark her skin and jog her heart.

_‘…you may have taken more than you realize.’_

What would have happened if not for the intrusion? That hand in hers, even for such a brief moment, had not at all been expected…and yet she welcomed it…just as she welcomed those fingers upon her throat. The reality sets in. She _knows_ that she had control. That if she wished, he would have released her. If she had tried, she’d have been successful. But she _didn’t._

Even when the twins enter the car, her mind is distracted by it all. And those feelings, ones that she had been labeling as a foolish and temporary, don’t seem very farfetched anymore. They drown anything else residing inside of her…making more room for only _him_.

———

She reverts back to old habits. Making sure any time spent with him is within some form of supervision, whether it be her brothers or her parents. To her surprise, he doesn’t bring up what happened, or try to seek out the alternate version of how he intended it to end. She’s quietly thankful to him for that, part of her wondering if he was aware of the discomfort she struggled to shake off for the days following. Then again, when had he ever shied away from wounded prey?

The following weeks seem to breeze by, making it somewhat easier for Kim to manage the battle taking place within her. More missions, more schoolwork, and more…Ron. Now the safest place she knows. More than ever, he had come through for her. Being there at every moment she finds herself falling into that dangerous hole. She is afraid to fall into those arms again, afraid of what she’d allow the man to do. But her way out is with her best friend, who steals her away and keeps her distracted, all while clueless as to what it is she’s running from.

There was no telling him, of course. She knows it would hurt him more than anything, all while putting a target on Monkey Fist’s back. Telling Ron would complicate the things she already struggles to handle, and so she keeps it close against her chest. Safe and sound.

Those weeks turn into a month, and before she knows it another holiday is rapidly approaching: Valentine’s Day. Something she can at least avoid at home, while it is plastered just about everywhere else. And at this point, there is no more avoiding the bond that has strengthened between her and Ron. In short, it’s no surprise to her when he asks about plans for the Hallmark holiday. Plans that weigh her down with what feels like guilt. She fears speaking of them anywhere in the house, afraid _he_ will hear.

But avoidance fails.

The day of, the twins zero in on her. Having seen her pick out a new dress the previous day and hiding it in an inconspicuous bag, they are relentless in questioning just who she intends to spend her night with. All in front of her parents, no less. With Monty in the living room, having front row seats to the very display she had fought so hard to hide. They loudly list out the names of who they think her suitor is, followed by questions from her parents who are delightfully surprised that it’s the first they’re hearing of it.

She’s afraid to meet their guest’s eyes however, but can feel them at her back while she tries to fight off the attention. But she gives in after the continuous pestering, finally admitting that it was Ron who had planned something for them. It settles them all down, but one stolen glance at the man tells her all she needs to know.

She will keep her distance.

The night is awkward. Ron having taken them to a restaurant far too upscale than either was used to. The pressure is on both of them, feeling as if they both need to step into the roles that extend past ‘friends’. It felt as if everything they actually enjoyed about each other was forgotten, and they were two different people trying to find those things all over again. She’s grateful for the food that somewhat saves them; giving them just enough of a distraction from rocky conversation.

Thankfully, the two ease up. A movie is next on the agenda, and it seems they have both quietly agreed to shift back into…well… _normalcy_. The pressure gone for now, as they both sit arm in arm and share snacks from the concession stand. In that moment it all feels right. All up until the moment they stand outside of his house. They are stuck between wondering whether or not it was a successful date, or a date turned into another night out. So…how to end it?

Ron decides for them.

He leans in for a kiss and before Kim can even think to react, he’s done it. A peck, thankfully. For the brief moment his lips are on hers, she realizes that it doesn’t feel….how she thinks it should. And to no fault of Ron, who stands there beaming and blushing after the fact, but because there is no…spark in her chest. No excitement engulfing her the way it should. But how can she even think to address that to him now? To steal the very joy from him as soon as it is given? Hiding whatever doubt may be on her face, she embraces him before watching him walk into his house. It was officially a date, and it had come to its end.

Tempted to turn up the music in her car to tune out the thoughts tangling in her head, she instead drives in silence. Allowing herself to meet those thoughts and feelings head on, no matter how uncomfortable they are. Whether or not she untangles any of them, she can’t say for sure, but when she arrives home there is a sense of relief felt.

Upon opening the front door she’s surprised to see the kitchen light on. Thinking nothing of it, she moves into the room to quickly turn it off but freezes as she sees Monty at the table, eating over a bowl of fruit and nursing a cup of tea. Heat flushes her cheeks immediately. Somewhere between guilt and fear sees her unable to move. She remembers that look on his face seen only hours ago, and of course…the last time they had been alone in this very room. But there was no hiding from him forever, she supposed. But after that night? It couldn’t have come at a worse time.

“Hi.” She offers softly, leaning against the threshold of the door, refusing to move any further just yet.

He turns his shoulders a little, watching her carefully.

“Home so soon?” He surveys evenly, his fingers tracing the mouth of his mug. She’s not sure whether or not there’s a jab thrown, but elects to ignore it if so. “Tea?”

“It’s too late for tea.” She admits softly, watching his brows raise and his eyes go wide.

“What a _filthy_ thing to say.” That does win him a small smile, and against her better judgement, she walks towards the table. Taking a seat across from him which keeps her at a comfortable distance. He looks a little surprised at the decision, his eyes narrowing over his cup at her. Reading her, or at the very least, trying to.

“How curious. You’ve been so _careful_ , Kimberly.” There’s no need for him to explain those words, as she fully understands exactly what he insinuates: _You sure you want to be alone with me?_ With a deep breath, she wraps the jacket around her a little tighter, looking to blue eyes that are intent on her response.

“Careful is … _exhausting_.” She admits. “And no, that’s not a green light for you to go _snatching_ me again.”

Monkey Fist smirks at that, and simply bows his head to her. A silent contract, at least for tonight. It’s all she needs before she leans back, thinking over the night’s earlier events.

“Something on your mind?” His tone implies he already knows the answer to that, and she knows herself that honesty would sour whatever compliant mood he’s in.

“Nothing that would interest you, I promise.”

“Probably not.” He agrees, taking another sip, “You Americans do **_love_** your meaningless holidays.”

Kim snickers at the change in gears, so very on brand from the man across from her.

“Last I checked it wasn’t _just_ an American thing. Hating holidays seems to just be a _you_ thing.”

She watches him smile at that, biting into a piece of melon and giving a slight shrug to his shoulders.

“Not _all_ of them. I do rather enjoy New Years.”

Kim is admittedly surprised by that, a smile pressing her lips as she rests her elbows over the table.

“ _You?_ **_New Years?_** The holiday where people watch a ball drop, wear ridiculous glasses, and share midnight kisses?”

“Well, that is _one_ of them, yes. And when you dumb it down like _that_ …it doesn’t sound very appealing at all. While I do prefer the celebrations in Shanghai for the Chinese New Year over the drunken fools in New York, the very concept of it in general remains the same: _survival_ of yet another year, for all beings on earth, with no real exclusion to anyone.”

“Only _you_ could describe it that way.” Kim muses, quietly impressed at what he’s offering her, “Still, it’s hard to imagine you among crowds of people in … _celebration_.”

“Alcohol does do **_wonders_**.” He smiles over his cup, taking one last pull before it is set empty in front of him. She grins and shakes her head before a realization dawns on her.

“Ah…I guess that means you were stuck here on the _only_ holiday you like.”

“Oh, it wasn’t _so_ bad. Your parents made sure I was well equipped with champagne. I watched that ghastly ball drop and listened to what is unbelievably considered … _modern entertainment_.” She chuckles at that response, knowing what he describes is far from ideal for him. “Seems the only thing I did miss out on **_was_** a midnight kiss.”

She hates the way her skin ignites when he says it, the way her insides twist knowing that it was his very intention for that reaction. Why _else_ would he say it?

“Somehow I don’t think _that’s_ a tradition you care to carry.”

“A gentleman _never_ tells.”

Kim sarcastically rolls her eyes, but the smirk doesn’t leave her lips. She does worry that the conversation may take a dangerous turn and so she quickly seeks to reset them.

“I used to love Valentine’s day when all it meant was getting candy from all of the other kids in class.” She rests her chin on her hand, thinking back to those simpler times.

“Do you hear that?” Her head pops up to look at him, watching as his thumb and forefinger begin to rub together. “Ah, it is the world’s smallest violin. And I’m playing it _just_ for you.”

She grins, leaning back and folding her arms out of defiance.

“Sounds like you didn’t have the luxury of that much sugar in your childhood.” Kim challenges lightly, watching as he also rests his shoulders back, watching her with complete amusement.

“The holiday itself is not one I ever cared to observe…but the day _is_ indeed a special one. My mother’s birthday. _She_ knew how to celebrate.”

The excitement that comes at such information is just as quickly stolen from her. She’s not even sure where to start. He hands over a piece of himself just like _that_ , and it’s hard to lunge right for it.

“…’Knew’?”

Monty is silent for a moment, before he presents to her what seems to be a forced smirk. “She left. When I was a young boy. _Died_ before I even knew how to go about looking for her.”

It’s his turn to reset them now, but before he can, he sees the look on Kim’s face. One of utter heartbreak.

“ _Stop that_. It’s not as tragic as it sounds.”

“Monty… _seriously?_ I couldn’t even imagine my mom doing that…” Kim is completely distraught, her heart aching for the man across from her.

“Believe me, knowing what I do now, I wish she had left _sooner_.”

She lets out a devastated groan and covers her face, a sight which she’s the man chuckling, “You just made it worse.” Kim whines softly, visibly hurting from the new information. “I have so many questions…”

“None that I will answer. I think I’ve ** _traumatized_** you enough for one night.” He rises at that, moving to wash and his cup and bowl before walking back over to her.

Kim still sits there, lost in thought, successfully distracted from her date but now tirelessly obsessing over what the man has just shared with her.

“Come.” His voice pulls her from her thoughts only for a moment, looking up at his frame that stands waiting for her. She exhales softly, pushing out of the booth and rising to follow him out of the kitchen. She diverts her path first, taking off her jacket to hang near the door, a harmless task until she turns back around and finds the man standing near the stairs and staring at her.

Exposed is what she feels standing in the dress she had bought for her valentine’s date. She’s partly thankful for the lack of lights, afraid of what his eyes are saying as she walks to the steps. Pausing when she reaches them, she turns and looks up at the man, searching for the right thing to say but unable to find anything more than,

“Goodnight, Monty.”

She’s not exactly ready to embrace yet another sleepless night, for what he’s shared with her is certain to linger for some time. And if not that, it will go back to her night with Ron. One doesn’t seem preferable over the other at this point, and so she simply accepts the night ahead of her as she takes those first steps up.

“Wait.”

Kim stops, turning on the steps and not quite knowing what to expect now after everything else. She supposes, and hopes, it can’t be any worse. She sees the man standing at the bottom, cloaked in darkness but still recognizable by the subtle light the night offers. She takes one step back down, offering her attention. There is a struggle there, however subtle, that she senses within the man who remains silent for a moment.

“I was never going to hurt you.”

There isn’t stopping the way her brows push together, obviously shocked by the sudden admission. The… _apology_. He’s talking about what had happened…what had driven her away from him over the course of a few weeks. What surprises her most is that he thinks it was fear of _harm_.

Kim takes a step back down, closer to him now where their eyes are almost level. “Is that what you think?” She almost smiles, but instead finds her hand reaching out to him…tentative at first…before the pads of her fingers find the warmth of his neck. His chin lifts, watching her closely, allowing those fingers to stay while his own obey her previous wishes. Kept at his sides.

“I _wasn’t_ afraid of that.”She breathes those words out, her hand sliding to rest over his collarbone, feeling his chest expand at the breath he inhales sharply. He turns his head away, clenching his jaw as if the truth is worse than what he had initially thought.

And perhaps it is.

“What was it then?” His voice remains soft, even if there is a dark tremor laced within it. Kim has no doubt that Monty knows the answer. That he simply wishes to hear her say it…and in some way she can’t blame him for it. She thinks she needs to hear it, too.

“I was…afraid of how it would end.”

He looks back to her at that, the look of confirmation evident on his features.

“And are you _still_ afraid?” He asks, taking his good leg to make a step up, leaving little space between them. And even then, he doesn’t reach out. “Or shall I _show_ you?”

The hand on his chest is quick to respond, pressing firmly to keep him exactly where he is. And so he stays. Close enough to her that it truly didn’t matter the barrier that was her hand between them. Despite the response of her hand, there is a moment that she considers saying ‘yes’. To let him breach the contract and finish what it was that he started all of those weeks ago. The temptation is there…but she knows that in this moment it is her mind that she needs to listen to even if the rest of her is being tugged in his direction.

But he takes the movement as his answer, and doesn’t seek to push it.

“Not now, or not _ever?_ ” His second question comes, and it is somehow harder to answer. She shakes her head a little, her hand sliding over his chest before falling from his person.

“I don’t know."

It’s not an answer she’s happy giving him, and she’s certain it’s not one he wants to hear. But the man is looking to take something from her without giving anything in return.

And she won’t allow that.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She assures him gently, watching him nod and take that step back down, giving her the space…the safe assurance of leaving with no retaliation.

And as promised, he lets her walk away.


	8. Rejection

Left him. His own mother _left_ him.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put it together; an absent mother and a father he has previously hinted at as being awful….how had she not known? Well, she does in part know the answer to that. It’s not as if the internet doesn’t have resources upon resources of the respected scholar and Lord, all of which she had combed through before and after the introduction of Monkey Fist. _None_ of which touch upon his mother any more than her name, birthdate, and relationship to his father.

Of course, information on his father is mostly available…only the accomplishments and descriptions of his work seem far too different than what the man downstairs has hinted at. She imagines that the resources may be skewed in favor of the names that she sees…considering they had the money and power to do it. More than anything, the information is drowned by the overwhelming history of the Fiske family name. A powerful English and French family that’s roots are both impressive and…questionable. She ultimately decides that she can’t fully trust the information provided, skimming through it for the umpteenth time since ever having contact with the man all of those years ago.

But it’s hard for her to let go. Especially as she knows that the man holds all of the answers but will only give them in random doses of his choosing. Somehow she’s certain he won’t easily elaborate on such an event in his life. It can’t have been easy to deal with amongst other notable events yet to come to light. But the next morning she’s inspired to at least try. Not after gaging his mood, of course, considering the last events of the night before.

It was at least out in the open…letting him know where she stands for now. Just as well, she now knows where _he_ stands. Wanting to still _finish_ what he had started. And while that end isn’t exactly known and spoken into existence, it’s hard not to assume the truth.

Just as she expects, the man is awake and lounging in the living room, holding a freshly poured cup of tea. The controllers resting on the table nearby tell her that she may have been too late for undivided attention, beaten by the twins who have surely pulled him into plans of…gaming. She hears them finishing up breakfast in the kitchen along with their parents, but decides to go to the man first who leans back and greets her with a quirked brow. His arm moves to rest over the back of the sofa, a quiet invite for her to join him. She accepts, crossing the room only to be stopped when an unexpected voice is heard calling out to her.

“Now I know my Kimberly isn’t going to just _ignore_ her Nana.”

Monty seems equally surprised by the sudden presence in the room. Then again, if there’s a soul on this earth who can sneak up on the great Monkey Fist, it’s her grandmother. Breaking into a grin, she turns to see the woman standing near the kitchen entrance with hands folded behind her back and a gentle grin on her lips. She moves to embrace her, expecting nothing less from the woman who simply gives her a gentle pat on the back. Reserved as ever.

“I didn’t know you were planning on coming up…did I miss something? How long are you staying?” She glances at her parents who also seem to be just as confused. It seems the knowledge was known only by the very woman herself, which isn’t exactly shocking for any of them really.

“Well I figured since you were all too busy housing the **_criminal_** over here, I’d have to come up in this dreadful weather to see my own family.” Green eyes go wide at those words, stepping back and looking towards Monty where her Nana so intently stares. “I see he’s made himself right at home.”

The man remains unbothered, however, sipping his tea while meeting her gaze. Sharp eyes flash towards her parents, wondering just who had told the grandmother about their… _guest_. Everyone else seems to be wondering the same thing… until her eyes land on the twins. Doubtful that they would tell her out of anything but the excitement of having a man-monkey living with them.

“Uh…Nana…this is…Lord Monty Fiske.” She scrambles to ease the rising tension, and before she’s able to utter out anything else, her grandmother speaks up again.

“ _Monkey Fist_ , is what the mugshot says. Master of Tai Shing Pek Kwar…amongst _other_ things. I suppose _master_ might be pushing it though, considering your current….predicament.” Her grandmother is relentless, stepping past Kim to fully address him. Fear paralyzes her, unsure of how Monty will react to such a direct strike and in front of her whole family no less.

But the man smirks. And she’s not sure if that is a good or bad sign.

“Nana…Monty didn’t come here on his own. We… ** _I_** …brought him here. He’s recovering. Why don’t we get you some breakfast and we can talk about it–.” She goes to gently take her shoulders and turn her away from the man, but she doesn’t budge.

“And is he so _incapable_ of speaking for himself?”

“What would you like me to say? Your observations are not _incorrect_.” He wears an arrogant grin on his face, along with the position his body takes on the sofa. And for a brief moment there is some sense of relief that Monkey Fist doesn’t engage her grandmother’s venomous tone. His last words do throw them all off, however. “I expect no less from _you_.”

“Oh? And _you_ know who I am, son?”

He rises then, a movement that sees all of them on edge as he carefully approaches her grandmother. Her worst nightmare is coming to life in this moment. This is it…this is where he snaps, isn’t it?

“Only a true master is so _ruthlessly_ critical.” Palm and fist come together before the man bows to her.

Kim is frozen to the spot, both confused and at a complete loss of words. The rest of them are no different, and while they wait for the grandmother who seems to not approve of any of what has conspired within this very home, they hold their breaths.

Finally the woman cracks a smirk, folding her hands behind her back and staring at the man with something a little less vindictive in her eyes.

“So you **_do_** know something of respect. Very well. I’ll be ready when you are.”

Monty’s head picks up with a look of confusion, watching as the grandmother turns back to her family as if the interaction had never happened. He straightens up and watches her walk away, eyes shifting to Kim who can offer him nothing but a shrug. Moving over to him, she watches her family ease back into what they were doing, all while catering to yet a new guest in their home.

“I’ll…be back.” Kim offers him before joining her family and preparing herself breakfast. Her grandmother eases into conversation without yet elaborating on her sudden presence. And as expected, they are all eager to hear about her night with Ron. The twins escape such conversation, joining Monty in the next room– something she keeps in mind before she keeps her explanation as vague as possible. She knows he’s listening, and in an attempt to be open with her family while still being aware of just how the man feels about her best friend, she manages to make it quick and simple. ‘ _It was fine, but I’m not sure it’ll happen again.’_

After she’s cleaned up after herself she breaks free, and not without hearing her father question Nana about her confrontation with Monty. She doesn’t stick around to listen, and instead takes a mug with her into the living room to join the very man on the sofa. Perfect timing as they’ve just finished a race, his hand already reaching out to collect the empty cup before she’s even sat down.

“I promise she’s not always that…intense.” She lets out with a heavy breath, sitting at his side while the twins begin to set up a new race. Monty smirks, glancing over at her while he prepares her tea with the fixings on the coffee table.

“It’s refreshing, actually. The rest of you are _far_ too nice.” She huffs at the response, pressing back into the sofa with folded arms and an amused smirk.

“I can _easily_ change that if you’d like.”

“Oh, sounds _delightful_.” Monty grins, joining her as he leans back and hands over her cup. Their shoulders brush but neither pay any mind to it. The closeness an afterthought now compared to the boundaries already crossed at this point. And besides…she finds that she doesn’t quite hate the heat his form brings. His hands pick up the controller, and while his eyes focus on the screen for the twin’s sake, his attention remains on Kim.

“What exactly did she mean before?” He asks, his voice low and meant only for her ears.

“Mm…about being ready? I think she wants to fight you.” Kim shifts her gaze and grins up at him, seeing the corner of his lip curl in what can best be described as disgust.

“ _Her?_ Fight **_me?_** Don’t I have enough Possibles to defend myself against?”

“ _Defend_ yourself? As if _you_ aren’t the instigator?” Kim doesn’t hold back her amusement at the audacity of his statement.

“I can’t help it if you see my worldly pursuits as…unacceptable.” She hears humor in his own tone, surely aware of just how ridiculous he sounds to her.

“Worldly pursuits? That’s one way of putting it.” Kim drawls over the hot drink, seeing that smirk remain on his lips. “I wouldn’t worry much. I’m sure she’d take it easy on you.”

She knows what she’s doing. Playing with fire, and knowing exactly the sort of reaction she’ll get from the man. And just like that, she earns it, seeing him tear his focus away to shoot her a glare.

“Take it **_easy_** on me? She is an elderly woman, Kimberly. What trouble could I possible have?”

“The same trouble you do when you face a _cheerleader_.” Monty makes a face at that, turning his attention back to the game.

“That’s different. _You_ are different.” The man mutters his response, both unwilling to admit that she had bested him in the past while also not wanting to demean her. And even while she sees the comment for what it is, she can’t help but quietly gloat over the subtle admission.

“Was that…a _compliment?_ ”

He scoffs at that, a subtle roll of his eyes and shake of his head while doing so.

“I am not _incapable_ of acknowledging one’s skill, you know.”

She offers her hand out, a pleased look upon her features as he passes over the controller and takes the tea from her hands. Offering a gentle ‘thanks’, she makes herself comfortable and waits for the race to start.

“She’s the one who _trained_ me, you know. And don’t let her appearance fool you…she’s still got it.”

“Is that so?” He’d always wondered just how she had obtained such skill. It makes far more sense now. She must have started at a young age, considering his own high skill when he was that young. “I’ll try not to lose sleep over it.” The man drawls, catching the smile on her lips even while she focuses on the game.

Despite the knowledge shared the night before, and even the heavy moment on those stairs, that exchange upon the sofa sets the tone for them in the weeks to come. From avoidance of solitude with the man, Kim now finds herself drawn to him more than ever. She’s certain the feeling is returned in kind, and _not_ just out of boredom. It does remain strange, however, at the suggestion that weighs over her head and the knowledge now known between them. There’s a mutual attraction. One that had been driving her crazy as she had so desperately tried to question and suppress it. Perhaps because it had remained in her head for so long that now there was no need to tiptoe around it.

It was there. It was real. And the ball was in _her_ court.

The man had stated his case, wanting to show her just what his intentions were. And while she wants to give him an answer, there is still much to consider. And she does just that; _out_ of his presence as he has proved to have a power over her when she is with him. Unable to think of anything else that had nothing to do with the cerulean eyes watching her and the canines that catch on his bottom lip when he listens. The answer is so clear when she is with him. But once she is out of the hypnotic bubble that his presence brings, the answer couldn’t be farther away.

Even as they spend their time together, reading, speaking, battling on a board or on a screen, she continues to see the many sides of him. The good ones. The _ugly_ ones. The kindest she has seen from Monty still in no way erase even the _mildest_ of his worst. He teeters on the scale constantly– struggling to stay in the middle. Kim comes to find herself observing just that.

Trying to find where the man falls when he isn’t trying to _gain_ anything.

At times feeling almost impossible to do, as she has only ever known him to do things out of greed. Other times, rarer moments, he comes from a place hidden in his depths. Something so honest and unquestionable…such as speaking on his history. He doesn’t soon elaborate on his mother as she had hoped, but she thinks back to a lunch shared between them; speaking of his time as a boy and training under masters who’s tactics were both cruel but still kinder than anything he’d ever known. Pieces of him that are so small she can’t help herself but to latch onto them. At the end of the day they are simply not enough to combat the mountain sized collection of red flags that he has.

Even _then_ , she hasn’t given up.

Something Ron has exercised as well. She’s relieved that the two are quick to address their date. A night out that felt only right when they had taken the labels off of everything. It’s hard not to see the disappointment on Ron’s face when she tells him she’s not ready to take things further with him… which isn’t a _lie._ It’s not the whole truth either. Part of Kim is eager to see where a relationship would take them, and is happy to push through rocky and awkward dates to try. But it wouldn’t be right. Not now when she feels herself being tugged in the direction of the man who currently resides in her home. A few days of distance between her and Ron commence after the conversation, as if both needing help in resetting their expectations of one another before falling into the same comfortable habits as before.

And while Ron doesn’t visibly seem to pick anything up from Kim who feels as if she’s become an expert at protecting her thoughts and feelings, Monty hones in on it. Sensing the drift during those few days, and taking advantage of it. His way of doing so proves to make her feel better…and less alone due to the temporary void of her best friend, but makes it all the more obvious to Kim that the man is still eager to seize any opportunity no matter how slight. If that wasn’t enough, the shift in his own mood was made apparent as soon as routine fell back into place with Ron.

Needless to say, he wasn’t happy about it.

Months ago, when the man was confined to the bed in the basement and covered in bandages, Kim dreaded the time with him would go by painfully slow. Yet here they are, in early March where the weather begins its unpredictability. Time has breezed by at an alarming pace. The twin’s birthdays are upon them, a celebration that her grandmother was eager to stick around for. Not that there was any hint of her leaving any time soon. They all had their suspicions as to why, even if she never addressed it. Even Kim has witnessed the looks shot in Monty’s direction by the woman. Not one of any selected emotion per say, but a look as if to let him know that there was unfinished business between them.

Unfinished business that may be approaching faster than anticipated. It was only a few days ago that she had watched the man relaxing without the boot on his leg, wounds healing nicely. It was only a matter of time before he would be free of any constraints. The thought was terrifying, even with their strengthened… _rapport_. It’s a topic that everyone seems to be feeling, and carefully avoiding. It’s hard not to wonder whether it is because of their initial plans of handing him over to the authorities, or if they are all so accustomed to the man that they’re not quite ready to let the _new normal_ go just yet.

So they’ll continue to avoid it as long as they can, going on about their business as usual. Business, today, being Jim and Tim’s birthday. Plans of dinner and cake are on the table for the night as well as a show of their choosing. All mostly stunned when the two had requested going to see a play, but Kim is convinced that Monty’s influence has something to do with it. The man keeps to the basement that day, no doubt having slept through most of it as the two did stay up rather late whilst getting lost in more chess.

By the time cake is being cut, they are intent on making sure that Monty gets a piece saved for him. A good piece, at that. They mention that they had promised to bring him one, knowing before anyone else that he wouldn’t be joining them. Kim, seeing the opportunity, volunteers to take the slice down to him, eager for his company after not having seen him all day. A strange thing to miss, considering their history.

Stepping into a dark and quiet basement remains unnerving, but it tells her that the man is either still sleeping or perhaps meditating. When she reaches the landing and sees his form sitting in front of the glass doors, it becomes clear that it’s the latter. Sitting so very still with his back turned to her, she doesn’t think to disturb him and simply rests the plate down upon the coffee table before turning to leave.

“I’m nearly finished.” He offers in a tone distant from the world he’s currently tethered to. Kim hears the request in his voice and changes her path to head for the sofa to wait for him. A few long moments pass before she hears him shift and inhale deeply. His boot is off, and he doesn’t bother to put it back on before making his way over to her. A dying sun is the only light offered into the room, and she can’t help but admire the way the orangey light paints his skin as he moves towards her.

He seems to be enjoying the view as well. There’s not even a small attempt to hide the way his eyes drink in the sight of her. His place is at her side then, collecting the plate to observe it before making a face.

“ _Vanilla?_ ” Kim rolls her eyes as he observes the slice of cake with a look of little disgust, making a twist of his lips that is almost humorous.

“It’s not _your_ birthday, you know.”

“What a relief. Vanilla on a day like this?” He clicks his tongue and yet continues to still take a bite, easing back into the sofa and glancing over at her. “Chocolate would’ve been better.”

She smiles and shakes her head, resting it upon the heel of her palm as she watches him quietly.

“You know…you could have joined us. I think at this point…we would have all been okay with it.”

His chewing slows, eyes shifting to look over at her.

“Sounds like I might have been missed.” There’s a glimmer in his eye that sees her making a face. He wants to play the game. Always _a_ game. But she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy it to….some extent.

“If you’re looking to be flattered, I’ll happily grab the twins for you.”

“Ah, and was it _them_ who suggest you come down here yourself to bring me something sweet?”

Bullseye. He wins that round, and while she does loathe his arrogance, it does keep that smile upon her lips.

“You know, I’m convinced it would kill you to once admit that at the very **_least_** you don’t _mind_ me.”

She scoffs at that and shakes her head.

“I’m really starting to regret giving you that cake now. _Hey_. I’m never just going to forget the living hell you made for Ron and I. But…you’ve been _at the very least_ …..manageable for my family. Why should I punish you for it?”

“ _Impressive_ , Kimberly. A very mature thought, indeed. But I think you know that answer, one you’ve probably asked yourself: if the roles were reversed, would ** _I_** do the same?”

She…had thought about that. On multiple occasions. The answer is…ever changing. Monty….Monkey Fist… has been injured. Unable to utilize the very skills in which make him so dangerous. Ruthless. She knows the answer, or at least, she thinks she does. But there are moments in which she has her doubts. Seeing the way he speaks to her brothers, his respect for her parents, and his will to get back onto his feet. All of which she has observed carefully in the past few weeks.

She knows he isn’t all bad. Not everyone is pure in the actions or words they project. At the end of the day, mutations or not, he is still a _man_.

“I do know that answer.” She admits softly, “But regardless, I can’t hold what hasn’t happened against you.”

She sees genuine shock on his face at those words. His chewing paused as he looks over at her, in search of any deceit visibly there. But he finds nothing. The sound of scattering footsteps above them sees her looking up with a gentle sigh. It’s time for them to leave, and while she feels that the short time she’s able to spend with him is cut too short, she realizes in that moment he may need time to process her words. Whatever it is that his strung his nerves into disbelief. Was it the honesty? The kindness he has loved to claim that sickens him?

“I think that’s my cue.” Kim looks to him again, offering a soft smile, “Enjoy the cake, Monty.”

Her smile lingers before rising and making way towards the steps. Her hand reaches the cool railing, but before she can even lift her foot to the first step, the man’s voice is heard behind her and she stops.

“You’re lucky, you know.” She turns slowly, seeing him staring at the coffee table before him. The half eaten plate now resting back upon it. “All your life people have been there for you. Cheered you on. Supported you. **_Loved_** you. And for nothing more than just…being _you_. Authentic.”

His words aren’t accusatory, nor are they laced with poison. They are soft….and honest. She sees the struggle within himself, fighting the honesty….the vulnerability. Wanting to say something that he fears he should not. The thoughts aren’t unwarranted, it seems.

“What I’ve _done_ …who I **_am_** …you’ve all seen it. It doesn’t make sense to me. Treating me like one of your own. As if I am not a cancer to you all.”

She’s beside him again now, closer this time. A hand reaches up to rest upon his shoulder, gentle and warm to silently give whatever support he needs in that moment. Listening to words that _pain_ her. The fight within himself is felt, knowing that he is sharing thoughts that are pulled from the depths of him and stained with the tar imprinted on his soul. She can see that his decision is made within those few quiet moments. Monty swallows a heavy breath and sets his jaw before uttering his final point.

“Your family has shown me a kindness I’m not sure I will ever be able to repay.”

What he says and what he doesn’t tells her everything she needs to know in that moment. His truth, while not verbalized, is understood. The battle of what he was fighting back is clear now more than ever…and while she had always suspected that there was more hidden beneath layers upon layers of the man….she sees it again, this time clearer than ever before.

“No one is expecting you to repay anything. It isn’t fair to put that on yourself.” She’s not even aware of the hand that slides down his shoulder, and over his back where skin meets jagged scars and tense muscles. Monty looks over at there then, his eyes searching her own as if to decide whether or not he wants to believe her.

“And what about you?” He asks then, the bubble of trust quickly and unexpectedly popped as a large hand comes to her face then. He holds her jaw with terrifying control and delicacy that promises some semblance of…safety. It disappoints her, the way his guard comes rising back up and projected at her in the form of physical control. Her breath is stolen at the touch, and her own hand clutches the muscle of his back where it has rested.

And then she _sees_ it. She sees the act for what it is: a **_challenge_**. A test of her own assurance to him. Will she still be loyal to her words when his veil falters and and the truth of him is shown? Will her kindness falter when his true colors are again revealed?

“What will I owe _you?_ ”

There is a decision to be made in that moment. So easily she could slip back into her own shell, one that would protect her from the man who has sought to penetrate her own armor yet again. But she has learned. And that hand that keeps her there? It won’t hurt her. _He_ won’t hurt her. The control he seeks, however, and the reaction he digs for is one that she refuses to give. She has the control in this moment. All while she considers her next move, a whimper is stifled from the thumb that drags over the side of her cheek suddenly and catches on her bottom lip. It is that gesture that finally sees her free hand reach up to take hold of his wrist. Not exactly seeking to remove his hand from her… only to level them both.

To keep _him_ grounded, as he keeps _her_ truthful.

“You don’t owe me _anything_.” She assures him, struggling to keep her voice steady. But the hand on his back eases its grip. It slides off of him and joins her other hand to gently guide his grip away from her face and into her lap. He doesn’t refuse. Their palms come together, fingers wrapping around one another. Tangled and warm and…comforting as they sit there. It is as gentle as what was hinted the first time…in that kitchen where their fingers dared to find one another’s. Her hand, small within the confines of his own, feels protected in its embrace. Safe while remembering just what damage they have brought.

Her heart thuds hard against her chest, and she wonders if he can see it. If he can see both the fear and excitement that threatens to burst. _Of course_ he does. He sees _everything_. He knows what she so desperately tries to hide. She thinks she should say something…that she should address the tremor that he can feel in his palm. And the moment she parts her lips to speak, he moves in.

She’d be lying if she hadn’t been thinking about this. As of late, all her focus has fallen on the very man and her time spent with him. The brief and subtle touches passed off as friendly gestures…but they weren’t, were they? They were stolen wishes, a hint of something _more_. She remembers the way his eyes lingered upon her, and the shameless inhale she takes when he allows her near to him.

He _scares_ her. Constantly reminding her of the power he holds, and the one he has mastered…that of thought and word. Clever and cunning, she’s fallen for the very mind she’d been so careful to distrust. And even still…the trust isn’t there, but hidden and overwhelmed by all other feelings keeping her right there in that spot. Waiting to meet the end of this sentence. And it is so close now, she can practically taste the sugar left on his lips from his treat.

“Kimmy? You ready to go?”

That’s all it takes. Five words. They both freeze, Kim’s eyes go wide as if she’s cruelly pulled out of a wonderful dream. She can feel his fingers tighten around her hands, not willing to let her go just yet. Not wanting this to end… _incomplete_. She looks to the stairs where she can see the light filtering in from the now open door where her father waits.

“Yeah! I’m coming.” She’s afraid to look at him, to see what his eyes will have to say. He’s still so close, and so finally she looks to him, her free hand resting on his chest as a gentle barrier. There’s nothing she can say…nothing that won’t see her veiled and conflicted feelings exposed. The moment she speaks is the moment she remains within his grasp…obeying the eyes that tell her to _stay_. And so she reserves any words, and rises from the sofa. Afraid he will put up a fight, she’s surprised that his hands allow hers to slide away even if they are first unwilling.

Words escape her in that moment, and it’s all she can do to give him an apologetic looking before ultimately turning and leaving.

———

Kim is unable to recall a singular observation from the play. Distracted is putting the state she was in lightly.

They had almost done it. They had _almost_ kissed. She had _almost_ given in to the very man who, as recent observation has proven, has not yet convinced her is deserving. And just as certain as she is that the right decision was made, she can’t help but question everything about it.

Kissing him…was everything she wanted in that moment. Even in the car there and back, even in the seat of the theatre, she feels that she had missed out. That she had made a mistake not to stick around. To at least taste him…to feel him. It would have all been so perfect, wouldn’t it?

No. That is her _heart_ speaking, backed up by the rest of her which craves more.

Her mind thinks different.

A moment of poor judgement, of falling into the honeytrap that he had perhaps unknowingly set. That’s what kissing him would have been. It would have opened a door, where monsters lurk and seek to sink their fangs into everything good. He’d have won, and without having to give anything more than a charming grin and a few sweet words. She needs more than that. And while that thought settles well within her by the time they arrive home, fear and anxiety overwhelm her when they arrive back to the house.

Lingering in the foyer, she thinks of going down to him. To explain herself. To gage where he stands after what feels like another dishing of rejection. She decides against it. The thoughts and emotions are far too fresh, and she fears she may fall victim to the temptation yet again. Sleep will do them both well, she thinks, and so she heads up to her room.

Finally, she can release the breath she was certain she’d been holding all night. Tension eases out of her as she walks over to her desk, placing her bag onto the back of her chair along with device removed from her wrist. The jacket comes next, sliding it off of bare shoulders and tossing it aimlessly before approaching her standing mirror. Fingers comb through thick red locks, pushing her hair back and letting out a heavy breath. She stares at her reflection, not quite sure what to think of what she sees. Not anymore, at least.

All she knows in that moment is that…she’s safe. From all of her problems, here in this very room. No Ron, no world to depend on her, and most of all…no Monty to explain herself to. Even if she knows that….he does deserve it. An explanation. A reason for escaping a grip she’s not convinced she wanted to escape. And the look in his eyes…when their fingers had broken apart. When she pulled away from him, she had severed something…and just the thought of it pains her.

She needs to go to bed. To put to rest the events of the day and the thoughts plaguing her mind. With one final breath she thinks to slip out of her dress, to head towards the bathroom and remove the makeup from her face. But a shift of her eyes in her reflection catches something not noticeable before. A figure standing in her room.

A pair of eyes looking right at her.


	9. Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only just figured out how to gift this work lmao but uh the heat turns up in his chapter so I needed to remind y’all that this has all been inspired by my favorite Monkey Fist/Kim writer: NoelleAngelFyre

Frozen to the spot with a scream trapped deep in her chest– in that moment she can feel her heart stop completely. There is no question as to who it is that stands in her room, resting against her bookcase by the window with arms folded over their chest. When it finally processes in her mind, she swiftly turns around, seeing with her own eyes the man who skulks in the shadows of her room. Moonlight traces the outlines of his face and shoulders, a grim appearance that sends a chill right to her bones. It feels all the more quiet now, as if time has stopped around them. Not even the sound of her racing heart can be heard, but she figures that may just be due to the sound of it being so great it is deafening her to anything else.

She stays where she is, in front of that mirror, a hand latching onto her own wrist as she feels exposed…caught. Secretly she wishes she could see the color of his eyes, to see what it was that was there as he stares at her. Somehow she thinks she wouldn’t like what she finds, and so doesn’t make to go searching just yet. Monty remains unmoved, simply watching, observing. His silence is unnerving; she is quickly realizing that he won’t be the first to break it. Lips part, her chest tightening as she struggles to control the words that escape her.

“What…what are you doing here?” It’s all she can manage. All she can even _think_. The man who’s leg still remains confined to that boot. The man who has very well stayed within the boundaries set for him. Those constraints are broken now, and there is reason for it. Reason which can’t possibly come to her in such a terrifying moment.

Worse now, as he still doesn’t respond.

Kim glances to the entrance of her room, quickly thinking of all the ways she could escape this moment. And _then_ what? Where would she go? Who would she run to without completely destroying everything that had been built within the past months? She knows she needs an answer before making that decision, but she can’t help feel as if the one coming may not be in her favor.

She tries again.

“Monty…” she breathes out his name, taking the gentlest step forward, still very careful in the space kept between them in that moment. More than enough as it is. “Why are you in my room?”

Finally, he moves. Shoulders raising slightly as a deep breath is taken.

“This is the one place you can’t walk away from me.”

Her breathing steadies a little at that. Hearing his voice brings some ease to her, even if there’s not much pleasantness to it. She realizes she should have expected this. How many times were they going to come so close, only for her to bring it to a screeching halt? The basement, it seems, was the last straw for him. A man who has been impressively patient and respectful. But something has changed now.

“It was…never my intention…I….” But that’s a lie…isn’t it? So quick to defend herself that she’s not even quite sure she knows what she’s defending. Words fall short, leaving her standing there with what feels like nothing to offer him.

The man looks away, as if he himself is reserving thoughts that threaten to escape him. And surely he is. What other reason has he come to her on this very night? So cold and withdrawn, large steps back from anything she has known of him in the recent weeks. She thinks to go to him, to find solidarity with gentle hands and soft words. But there is no certainty that he would embrace such an approach. There’s no guarantee of anything in that moment. The only things she can trust is that there is still some respect for her. That despite who he was and what he’s done, nothing will come to her unwarranted. A dangerous thing to bank on, but it’s all she can do.

“You’re right. There is nowhere for me to go.” She offers, having some control over the shake in her voice. “You have something to say and.... I’m listening.”

Still he won’t look at her; won’t even acknowledge the brave words spoken to him then. She won’t push him, and even if turning her back is the most dangerous thing she can do in that moment, she faces the mirror again. Showing her own trust as her hair is swept aside so that her fingers can unhook the necklace upon her.

She can see his head turn back to her through the reflection then.

“It would be easy, you know.” She finds the hook as he speaks, gently removing it from her neck as she watches him through the glass. “To _take_ what I want.”

Fingers pause and hold onto the pendant in her hands, squeezing it as if it would offer any form of safety from the danger he reminds her of. But the threat, while very real, remains dormant for now. He continues to stay put, and she figures that if he’s intent to back up his words, he will let her know. But those words and insinuation are unavoidable, and while she’s given him the floor to speak his truths, she won’t simply remain quiet.

“I’ve known you to want many things, Monty. All of which you _think_ you _own_ , but don’t belong to you. To _anyone_ , for that matter.”

“This one isn’t a **_thing._** ” He replies quickly, keeping his eye on the young woman who sets the necklace down on a nearby desk before returning to the mirror. “But you know that. You know _exactly_ what I want. You know that even with this temporary confinement, I could have it if I so _pleased_. I could have **_you_**.” She freezes again, finding his gaze in the mirror. “But it was safer, wasn’t it? When the words weren’t said out loud. Well, I don’t _care_ for that anymore. **_I want you_** , Kimberly.”

She’s silent for a moment, letting those words sink into her. It is different hearing them. To confirm what the two had been carefully toying with for a while. Every touch... every look,.. every word had pointed to those three small ones. She had known, but hearing him finally say it.... brings a heavy reality.

“But it’s not _mutual_ , is it.” A fact, rather than a question, is what the man offers.

She turns around then, almost offended by the accusation.

“ _That_ isn’t fair. It’s more complicated than that, and you _know_ it.”

“You either _want_ me or you _don’t_ , I don’t see the complication. I just see **_fear._** ” She presses her lips and turns her back again, this time grabbing for the oversized shirt from her dresser, keeping herself busy while emotions begin to bubble in her chest.

“I’m not _afraid_ of you.”

“No. You’re afraid you’ll _like_ it. Afraid that enjoying someone like me makes you _just_ as bad. Brings you down to the very level you see me at. You are so comfortable above the clouds, Kimberly…”

She loses it at that, making a fist in the cotton that is the shirt she holds before tossing it towards the desk and turning around, this time storming right up to him with not a second thought.

“How can you _possibly_ think that is the way I see you? I may not have been explicit in my feelings, Monty, but you can’t sit there and claim that they haven’t been _crystal clear._ ” She stands before him then, staring hard at the man who is igniting a pain inside of her the can’t remember feeling before. “You know exactly what I feel. And if you need to hear me say it then fine,” she takes a shallow breath, her courage faltering for a moment, “I _want_ you.”

Her eyes narrow then, finally finding the words that should have come sooner. But before he can even respond to her admission, she speaks again.

“But if I give myself to you...if I let myself _have_ you...then what? You claim your victory. You enjoy your brief stint of power. You heal and then you **_leave_**. Off on another conquest. To obtain something else to further what you _really_ desire.” Her hand reaches out, pressing to his chest, just over his heart. “Knowing you since you have been here.... I’ve seen a part of you...one you keep locked away. One I have grown to admire. I don’t know yet what _he_ desires. But I know _you_ , and I know exactly the sort of contract I’d be tying myself to if I signed it.”

His hands reach out then, sliding around her hips and pulling her closer against him– between his knees as he stays half-seated upon the furniture. Both hands rest upon his chest then, both feeling him... and making sure some sort of boundary is set. Though there’s not much to be done about his own hands, ones that grip dangerously at the small of her back. A possessive touch that she doesn’t _entirely_ hate.

“And you think ** _I_** have nothing to lose by handing that over to you?” He asks in return, leaning his head in next to hers, brushing warm lips over her ear. “ ** _You_**... _beautiful_ and _wanted_...needed by _everyone_....you think I’d hand you over the only dagger that could truly hurt me? I told you before: **_no one_** gets to hurt me anymore. The man you see now is the man you will have. Strong...relentless...and **_hungry…_** ”

That last word is lost in a growl, teeth suddenly felt on the side of her neck joined by warm lips and tongue. Kim whimpers at the sudden feeling, trapped in this embrace and victim to the man who seeks to end this battle. To come out as conquerer.

“Monty...” she breathes out his name in hopes of bringing him back, but even she struggles to fight the burning sensation ignited within her. Wanting nothing more than to succumb to that mouth and the hands upon her form.

She breathes in the scent of his hair, something that had been oddly familiar considering their history of fighting that had always been close proximity. It’s thick and soft, easy for her fingers to tangle into. And that alarms her– that her hands were no longer putting up a fight at his chest and instead threading through his roots and gripping onto his shoulder. Her body gave in just as easily as she suspected it would. The very reason why this had all come about. Fighting it and avoiding it for so long, and now it’s right here. Right at her doorstep, pounding on the door. His mouth paints the side of her neck, tasting whatever flesh he can and quickly learning just how to play her.

He becomes an expert in only moments.

She refocuses the best that she can, pulling her head back and moving the hand from his shoulder back to his chest. Prying his mouth away isn’t easy, but her efforts are successful. But even when he does pull back to look at her, that hunger in his eyes finds a new target.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” It sounds almost like a plea and it some ways… it is. “And that is not the man I want. I want _all_ of you. Not part.” He doesn’t look happy with that, but his grip is unwavering, keeping her close and sealed against him. “You told me once that there weren’t two men. Just the _one_. I see that now... more than ever. But just as you suppressed yourself before.... you’re suppressing yourself now.”

“ ** _Don’t_** think to use my own words against me.”

“Monty, look at me.” The hand on his chest takes hold of his jaw, forcing their eyes to meet, torn away from her lips in which he intended to claim next. Wanting him to see the truth of her words. “I am _unarmed,_ and willing to finally see this to the end that we _both_ want. But I ... I won’t do that. Not like this. Not without all of you.”

“An ultimatum, then.”

She grows frustrated, moving to push away from him. He takes her words and turns them into _daggers._ “You’re not listening to me.”

Removing herself from his grip proves useless, as his hands don’t allow for her escape. Annoyed with her attempt, he pulls her back to his chest with an unyielding force.

“No, I understand you _perfectly._ ” She lets out a pained gasp, his grip upon her growing uncomfortable.... _painful._ “You’ll have me, but only if it’s **_your_** way. If it’s _your_ version of me, which is a mere stain on who I _truly_ am.”

“Is that so different than what _you_ want? **_Submit_** to you _blindly?_ Ah _…”_ her struggle against him is helpless, and with every movement seems to make his hold even tighter, “It’s not…some _made up thing_ …it’s real. Just as real as who you are _right now_.”

“I want _you_. **_You_** want a man I have drowned a long time ago. A man who is weak. A man that simply doesn’t _exist_. There _is_ a difference. But I am right here, Kimberly. And I am ** _real_**.”

“That’s _not_ true. If you had really killed him...I’d want _nothing_ to do with you. Because this side of you.... egotistic and driven by your lust for _control_... is ** _poisonous_**.”

His eyes widen at that, words like knives scratch the very surface of his guard. Enough of a distraction to finally pry her way out of his arms. But he isn’t finished, and so the moment she escapes from him, vicious hands seek to grab her wrists, reeling her back in at an alarming force.

It hurts. _All_ of it.

Kim can’t stand to bear it any longer, as his hands threaten to leave marks upon her just as his words already have. He doesn’t see it just yet. Not until a plea is uttered between them.

“Please let _go_ of me.”

He hears it then, a note in her voice that sees him release his hands immediately. Her eyes glossed with tears that threaten to kiss her cheeks. She backs away from him then, turning to hide her face. Pained and .... _betrayed_. She wants to tell him to leave. To burn it all... everything that had built up to that very moment.

“Punishing me... and for what? Being _honest?_ Telling you that I want _more_ so I can give you more?” She turns to face him again, her brows drawn together, “ _that’s_ the difference, Monty. You don’t even want to _try_. You even said it yourself– it would be easy for you. So easy to _take_ what you wanted without sacrificing _anything._ ”

She steps back to him then, hands extended as if offering the very prize he so wishes for. “Go ahead then. _Take_ what you want. Prove to both of us exactly the man you say you are: hungry…strong… ** _relentless_**.”

The challenge is a dangerous one, as she stands there waiting for whatever is to come. It could be anything at this point. It terrifies her to think that this is what it has all come to... when just hours ago his hands couldn’t be softer. His touch safe and exciting. His closeness to her... not close enough. And when the man before her simply turns his head, she lets out a pained breath. He’s still in there. And while she wants to feel relief, all she can feel is hurt. The back of her hand wipes at her eyes, collecting tears that hadn’t yet fallen.

“I think you should leave now.”

Monty’s eyes widen at that, knowing that he in that moment should do nothing more than obey her wishes. But he remains, struggling to find the right words to say.

“Kim, wait.” He rises then, moving over to her then, sensing the pain he has inflected upon her. There is no taking it back– that much he knows. “This isn’t the way I wanted this to go.”

She hates him in that moment. The way his voice turns soft. The way he switches out of this skin to simply appease her. The way his arms come around her again, gentler this time, pulling her back against him. Warm is what she feels. Safe is a close second. His head leans over her shoulder, the low rumblings of his voice somewhat of a comfort.

“Let me prove it to you. I am exactly the man you want. I am exactly what you need.” One hand lets go of her middle, moving up to cradle her jaw with careful fingers. The pad of his thumb catching a warm tear on her cheek, and it is perhaps that moment that he realizes the damage that he’s done.

Kim peels the arms off of her, turning to face him then.

“Leave. _Please_.”

She doesn’t spare him another moment of her time before swiping that shirt from her chair and moving into the bathroom where she shuts and locks the door. She finds comfort as she slides to the cold tiles below, wrapping her knees up in her arms and burying her face away from the cool elements of the space.

Kim stays in there for a long time, unable to move, afraid that the man who had all but seized her heart and in the same breath destroyed it would still be waiting for her. After finally rising, changing, and washing her face, she’s relieved to walk back into an empty room. With no distraction, she falls right into her bed, clutching to the sheets and and burying her face into her pillow. And even with the pain and confusion that plagues her, she is able to find some form of peace in a dreamless slumber.

———

The stains of her tears have been washed away now. A cold shower allows her eyes and the puffy skin around them to heal. She avoids looking upon her wrists for fear of finding any unwanted memories upon them for as long as she can. When she finally does, she finds nothing. Along with her neck, where his mouth had feasted upon briefly. Nothing is there, nothing as proof of what had happened in the night aside from the open wounds inside of her. Wounds she can’t even begin to think of how to heal.

It will need to wait, of course. Obligations and other priorities taking the forefront. She partly thinks she deserves everything she’s feeling anyway, convinced it was her own doing that had bought this upon them. But she knows that’s not true. Of course, it would be too easy to claim that the man was what he had always been: cunning, manipulative, and greedy. Perhaps that is why it hurts so much…knowing that there is so much more…and that it _could_ be hers. Is he really so unwilling to be anything other than the man on display last night? So unwilling to meet her in the middle?

No. She is too tired…too emotionally and mentally exhausted form the previous 24 hours which has been a completely unpleasant rollercoaster. A school day is ahead of her. Ron, cheer, and a potential mission are all things to look forward to.

Just one last hurdle before it all…breakfast.

The last thing she wants to do is think of the man right now, let alone look upon him. To see him. To hear him. But walking down into the kitchen there is no avoiding it. No avoiding him. She knows him, and she knows that he will be there. That no exchange, no matter how sour, will see him shy away.

As expected, he is there along with the rest of her family. She slows when she sees his frame in the kitchen. The sudden warmth of his breath and touch of his hands return like ghosts upon her. Flushing with heat pulled mostly from anger when he looks up to spot her moving into the room; she won’t allow their eyes to meet.

Then, as if things couldn’t get worse, a blessing disguised as a curse enters.

“Hey, Ronald!”

The name her father exclaims sees her frozen in place. Still she manages to turn and see Ron standing in absolute shock and anger. The tension suffocates the air suddenly, and she doesn’t need to look at Monty to know that he is also seething at the sight of him. Her parents seem currently aloof while the twins make an excited sound at what they think might be the fight of the century. Her grandmother stands at the front door, the obvious culprit who is oblivious to the two energies not meant to be in the same room.

Kim forces herself to snap out of it then, moving to Ron and bringing him back to Earth with a hand on his shoulder.

“Ron….breakfast is almost ready, alright? Then we can leave.” She tries to squash it now, before things get out of control, but… that was never going to happen.

“Breakfast?! How can you even think of breakfast when _Monkey Fist_ is sitting in your **_kitchen!_** ”

Everyone stops at that, the silence almost painful. It is a reality for them all in that moment, that the one thing they had done such a good job avoiding was now failing and fast. There’s nothing to be done about it now, and it is left up to Kim to appease her best friend while making sure the man doesn’t engage with him.

“Ron, it’s nothing new. I promise. Just sit down, okay? No one is in danger of anything except the shrill of your yelling.” She gives him a pressed smile, ushering him towards the table opposite of Monty who remains silent. Kim steals a quick glance at him, meeting his eyes momentarily before she busies herself with helping her mother bring the food over to them. She takes a seat near Ron, guilt welling in her chest as she can’t push the thoughts from the night before out of her head, and how he has not a clue of what has happened.

“I finally found some you might like, Monty. Give it a try.” He mother pushes over a plate of sausages, Monty making a face before politely gesturing with his hand.

“Err…I really don’t-.”

“I know. It isn’t. Give it a try- took me ages to find a decent brand.”

Monty raises a brow at that, tentatively stabbing one of the links and bringing it to his mouth. He pauses, smelling it first, before reluctantly taking a bite. He chews slow, tasting for any betrayal of what she’s said, before nodding and swallowing.

“A good selection, indeed. Your efforts are appreciated.” He bows his head before taking another link onto his plate, which is what sends Ron into another fit.

“ **YOU’VE _GOT_ TO BE KIDDING ME! **_Veggie_ sausages? And for **_HIM?!_** Do you guys even remember who he is? Or did he just….brainwash all of you?”

“Ron!” Kim smacks him in the chest, “Give it a rest-.”

“Just because you’ve somehow tricked all of them into thinking you’re this … _normal_ …person…doesn’t mean you’ve fooled **_me_**.” Ron points at him from across the table, rising to make his point and staring the man down. “I know exactly who and **_what_** you are. A vicious freak of nature who deserves nothing less than what he got.”

Both of her parents gasp of shock, while the twins are practically beaming with excitement. Kim wishes she were anywhere else, terrified of what will happen if this isn’t under control. And even if part of Kim agrees with Ron after what had happened, the majority of her won’t stand for it. Only, before she can speak up again, the man finally breaks his silence, his gaze dangerous and dark as he stares hard at Ron.

“As a guest you fail to show respect or honor to your hosts. _Silence_ yourself, or I will take it upon myself to do it _for_ you.”

It’s that idle threat that the grandmother jumps in then, resting a hand on Ron’s shoulder as she stands over him.

“You are both being rude to engage in such matters at the table. Eat. I don’t want to hear another word of this _drama_.”

The two exchange a lasting glare, but her Nana’s words shut them both up. The room falls silent then, until finally her father decides to cut the tension and spark up a conversation with the twins who engage happily. She keeps her eyes cast down all the while, pushing the food around and not realizing that by the time they all finish, she hadn’t eaten a thing. The moment Ron clears his plate, however, she sees her opening.

“I’ll meet you in the car.” She gives him a nudge, seeing him nod before shooting Monty yet another look. He rises and thanks her parents for the food, all before exiting the house. She follows suit, moving from the table but not without hearing her mother’s observation.

“Kim, you haven’t even touched anything...everything okay?”

She can’t stop the cringe she feels at that question, the flood of emotions that she’s forced to tighten the lid on.

“Yeah, gonna eat at school, I’ll see you later.” She makes her way out of the kitchen, sighing as she runs up the steps to grab her bag left by her desk. Coming back down she looks upon the door, relieved that she is just a few moments away from some form of freedom. Setting the bag down, she collects her jacket and pulls it on.

“Kim.”

She shouldn’t be surprised when she hears that voice. Her movements slow for a moment, and her heart aches desperately within the confines of her chest. She steals a glance at the man to acknowledge him, but doesn’t linger long enough to see what is being said upon his face.

“I have to go.” She’ll give him no more than that, swiping her book bag from the floor before making her escape out the door and into her car where Ron waits.

The man left inside sets his jaw as he watches her leave, standing in the foyer feeling all the more a stranger in the house than ever before. It’s then that he feels eyes upon him. Looking over to see the grandmother in the kitchen, watching him like a hawk. There’s no doubt that she had witnessed his attempt just then. The first time, he’s certain, that anyone had caught so much of a glimpse as to his and Kim’s…relationship.

He doesn’t care to linger. Turning to walk towards the basement but he is stopped when her voice is heard calling out to him.

“You’re almost ready.”

He lets out a breath, taking a step backwards to look into the kitchen to meet her eyes once again. Monty approaches her, keeping a respectable distance as he stares down at the elderly woman who wears an all-knowing grin.

“Come with me. I’d like to show you something.”

That is…surprising. While curiosity drives him, he is careful to keep his guard up as he’s not quite sure what to expect. The woman has been surveying him for some time, and it’s hard not to think back to what Kim had suggested.

Still, they walk out of the house. Past the fire pit and through the backyard which stretches towards the lake behind them. There is a set of wooden stairs they walk to, a zig zagged path down into trees, flowers, and stone…all that are in desperate need of grooming after the winter months. They’re both quiet for a time, until they’ve reached the steps where Monty offers his arm to her.

She accepts with a grin.

“Such a gentleman.” She observes out loud.

“Old habits die hard.” He drawls in response, taking his time in escorting her down the steps.

“Is that what they are? _Old habits?_ The way you treat my family, one might think that it’s simply a trait they are very much fond of.”

“Maybe they just see what they _want_ to see.” There’s no stopping the resentment heard in his tone; pride still wounded by words exchanged with Kim.

“Doubtful. As kind as they all are, they aren’t _clueless_ , Monty.”

He glances over to her at that, choosing to reserve anymore thoughts as they continue their journey downwards. His curiosity continues to grow, and when they near the bottom he finally sees exactly what they are headed towards.

A …dojo.

Sitting out in the open air, a large training area that doesn’t look like it’s been utilized for quite some time. The sight of it excites him. And as the two stand just outside of its boundaries, reality sets upon him rather quickly.

“I’m _not_ going to fight you.”

The grandmother barks out a laugh at that, turning to him with furrowed brows.

“And where did you get _that_ idea? Heh… oh no, Lord Fiske. This is where you’re going to _heal_.” Two fingers stick into his chest then, “This is where you will take _flight_ again. What happened to you, on the outside _and_ in, can be healed…but not alone. **_I’m_** going to train you, and you are going to leave here stronger than ever.”

He’s speechless. All of those looks and comments... and the woman wants to _help_ him? If only she had known but he had done to her granddaughter the night before. How much pain he has caused her, this wouldn’t be happening. None of it would.

“That is.... **_if_** you are looking for change. I can assure you the man that steps into this ring will not be the same one who walks out of it. You’ll have to make that decision on your own… and it will be upon you sooner than you think. I suggest you think on it.”

Blue eyes shift back to the display in front of them. Oh, what he’d _do_ to step into it and reclaim his skill and strength. And, it seems, to learn something new overall…from the very woman who has trained his longest rival. It is a lot to consider, indeed, and it’s anything he can hardly think to put his thoughts into when he is all too distracted by recent events.

“Come. You’ll have enough time for considerations. For now, let us enjoy some tea.”


	10. Choices

“Still sensitive?”

“Not really.”

Fingers slide down the long ugly scar on the side of his leg, poking and massaging the flesh in different areas between knee and what would be ankle. Dr. Gruber hums mindlessly, inspecting every inch of the area before leaning back and offering him a smirk.

“Congratulations. I think you’re ready to start your physical therapy. However you go about that, be sure to take it easy. Some days might feel better than others– but don’t let that fool you. You’re nearly there, don’t ruin it by doing something stupid.”

He rises then, leaving Monty to glance at the boot nearby that is no longer necessary for him. All constraints, all ties that keep him tethered to this place.... they’re all gone. Looking up he sees Anne and James’ delighted faces, truly happy that he has made such a tough recovery. But he sees something else as well. Sees....worry.

For they are all asking themselves the same thing: _what now?_

It’s been days since he had snuck into Kim’s room. Days since he had set fire to any trust she had for him. It feels…unsalvageable. Not that he’s really had the opportunity to try. She ignores him. Avoids him. Hardly stays at home. It all screams to him that she needs space and that…he can at the very _least_ do. After all, he had _invaded_ it…more than once. Every time he thinks on it there is a struggle to both erase it from memory and to savor it. To keep it close to him for having her in his arms was everything he could have hoped for.

Even if it was brief…the hand clinging to his shoulder and the fingers pressed deep into the black roots of his hair…he thought he _had_ her. He thought that finally… _finally_ they did not need to hide. To shy away from the truth. He wanted her, and _she_ wanted _him_. It felt so simple in that moment.

But then she dared to do what none other has.

She reached deep into his soul and dug through the black tar, the ugliness, the venom that shrouds any good left in him…reaching for that _light_. Trying desperately to grasp at what she’s so certain is there, and all without doing any more damage. She’s successful, he thinks. Only due to the mess it makes when finally her hand is free, for he sits there with less of the poison inside of him. Only now, she now holds onto it.

And knowing that feels… _worse_.

Here he is, a man who has learned to live with it…to deal those black waves that engulf everything else, now watching the way it hurts her. But there is no denying it. That darkness…the toxin…it isn’t a _thing_. It’s _him_. **_He’s_** hurt her. He’s _hurting_ her. And all he wants to do is to take it back. He’ll hold onto it forever if it spares her the pain evident in emerald eyes. He’d rather that then give her the weak thing gasping for air inside of him. The part of him which she claims she so craves. Ridiculous. As if he’d _ever_ shed this harmful casing. It hurts him, it’s uncontrollable, it is all things _bad_ …but it protects him. It always has. He relies on it. Not _cheerleaders_. Even if, while he used to hate to admit it, Kim is far more than that label. But to trust her is to submit.

Monkey Fist does **_not_** submit.

“Join us for dinner tonight.”

The suggestions sees a brow raise at that, searching both her parents’ faces. He’s not quite sure where this is going, but Anne happily answers the unasked question.

“Just us. No Kim or the twins. I’ll make something nice.”

It becomes obvious what this is, then. The time has come, just as the grandmother had warned. The path that up until now remained linear, was now branching off. There were new paths to take, decisions to make. He’s partly surprised Kim won’t be involved in such a discussion, not that he believes she even knows that yet. It feels obvious how that would go, however. There would only be one option. Hell…if the two who stood before him knew what he’d done to their daughter… if they had known that under one moon he had tasted her skin and bruised her heart…

She didn’t deserve it. And they deserve _not_ to know.

“It would be my pleasure.” He offers softly, bowing his head. “If you don’t mind…I think I’ll step outside for a bit.”

Solitude is what he hopes to find out in the yard. More specifically, the dojo that has been calling to him ever since learning of its existence. Now free of any physical confinement, his limbs ache to stretch and work. To feed the parts of him that require attention and balance. There’s a chill to the air despite a spring sun that kisses his pale skin. He loves it. The bite of cold. Every step down increases the rhythm of his heart while his mind races with memories of movements and forms that he has perfected over decades.

When he reaches the bottom he spots a figure nearby; the grandmother. She’s on her knees and pulling at weeds, collecting them into a wheelbarrow. It seems she’d done a bit of work out here, clearing paths and trimming hedges. Even a small bit of the stones surrounding the small arena are cleaner. Not wanting to sneak up on her, he lets himself scatter pebbles with his foot as he move towards her. Lets her know that he’s there, even if she’d already known.

“Come to help?” She greets without turning her attention away from the task at hand. Monty lifts his chin before folding his arms and considering the question.

“Not exactly.” He admits honestly, eyes scanning the area. “Just…enjoying the fresh air.”

“Enjoying the taste of _freedom?_ ” She pries gently, a smile heard in her voice. He smirks and nods to himself.

“I’m not sure _free_ is what I feel.”

“I imagine not. But you’re feeling _something_. And to me? That is something to be glad about.” She reminds him so much of an old master. One crueler than he was kind. But he was wise and insightful.

“What are you doing out here, anyway?” He changes the subject back, not quite willing to go into old scenarios so fast. “If there’s anything here that needs attention, it’s this.” He gestures to the structure behind them, even if the grandmother still doesn’t bother to look.

“We will get to that soon. Nature comes first.”

“ _‘We?’_ ” He scoffs at that, circling her to see what resides in her eyes.

“You’ve got nothing better to do. And soon enough you’ll depend on this energy around you to guide you through your healing. Might as well contribute to it.”

Monty makes a face at that; one of astonishment and later acceptance. “You make it sound like a decision has been made.”

“I don’t doubt that it has. I can only speculate, of course. I suppose I just can’t think of a good enough reason for you _to_ leave.”

Finally, he moves beside her and kneels down, reaching for the weeds too distant from her. “I can think of plenty.” And while that’s true, there’s only one that comes to mind: Kim.

“And do you _want_ to leave?”

He doesn’t answer that, and he’s quietly grateful that she doesn’t push the topic further. Both fall into a quiet trance, working side by side for the full afternoon. He thinks hard while he works, finding his thoughts a little more clearer while he’s able to physically contribute to something, even if he is making an absolute mess of himself in the process. More than anything, he thinks on what Kim said to him.

_I want all of you._

Monty finds himself hung up on those words. Words he’d been craving to hear… and that becomes the issue. Even in context, those words don’t mean what he wants them to mean. She wants _all_ of him. Especially the parts he’s unwilling to give away. For why does she deserve them? Why does anyone? Of course, the part of him he **_is_** willing to give is the very same part that had driven her away. That sees her keep her distance. That hurt her, in more ways than he can understand. In his heart he knows that what she was asking of him was nothing difficult, and that any other man on the planet would bend over backwards to make it happen for her.

So why can’t he? Why can’t he simply _give in?_

The sun is already setting by the time the grandmother draws them out of their focus. Hours of work had done them well, just as it had done the garden. He’s covered in dirt and sweat, while the grandmother looks as poised as ever. Realization dawns on him that his presence is required…that the time has come. Still, he takes his time in walking her up the steps and making sure she gets into the house okay before he walks through the sliding doors of the basement. He strips as he walks to the washroom, eager to scrub himself clean.

It’s his last moment of peace with his thoughts, trying desperately to think of all scenarios and all of the ways in which he could respond to them. So deep has he thought this all through that he nicks himself on the throat while shaving, bringing him back to reality for a moment as he does his best to stop the sudden bleeding.

He does wish that he owned more than jumpers and sweat pants, doing all that he can with his face and hair to at least appear as if he’s ready and respectful for what they have to say. Alas, he heads up the steps, greeted by scents that almost carry him there. A hard day of yards work sees him famished.

He stops before he reaches the kitchen, turning to look into the mirror hung near the stairs. Monty inspects his face, fingers tracing the small cut on his throat that still burns from aftershave. His observations are cut short, however, as he feels a presence then that sees his eyes shift towards the kitchen entrance.

Kim stands there…watching him.

Their eyes meet briefly. The look on her face tells him she wasn’t expecting him to be right there, and the way her arms cross over her middle tells him of the discomfort she still feels. Just as any other time, he’s eager to say something. To talk to her. But even if he had thought of the right thing to say, she’d be gone. Already heading up the steps and leaving him to his plans. What does somewhat surprise him, is that she remains at those top steps. She sticks around to see how this all plays out, and while her parents won’t know…he does. And maybe she intends for it to be that way.

“Help yourself.” Anne gestures to the bottle of wine that the two have already gotten into, leaving Monty to take his seat and pour a not so shameless glass for himself. He takes a hefty sip, humming delightfully when a plate is placed in front of him. A pasta dish, one they’d clearly put some effort into. He waits patiently for the two of them to settle at the table with him, politely engaging over small talk that starts with the work in the gardens. The man is grateful that the two take to leading the conversation, casually discussing politics…cultural differences…all things he’s happy to discuss while still measured. The wine helps too, of course.

They eat and drink, keeping things light. It’s nice, even if the dark cloud still hovers above his head. Even if he knows that not far away, their daughter is listening intently to everything discussed. But of course, the wine runs out eventually and the plates are cleared. James is the one to finally do it. To finally lead them towards the purpose of this whole dinner.

“My mother continues to surprise me. Taking a liking to you and offering her training was a move I never thought she’d make.”

Monty grins at that, “I’m not sure it’s ‘taking a liking’ so much as taking on an exciting _project_.”

The father smiles and nods, knowing there is no offense in agreeing. “There are a lot of things we could call it, I’m sure. You know, we brought you here under the knowledge that the moment you were better, we could contact the proper authorities. See to it that you answered for crimes still very much tied to your name. As you know, I was present for one of them.”

He can feel himself pale at those words, seeing one of the paths already playing out…and it doesn’t look good.

“But…things change. The things you did? They don’t. They never will.”

God, he doesn’t need to hear that. Doesn’t he know? Doesn’t he understand that all he wants to do is just that? Change what has been done? What has been said?

“We don’t know you, Monty. But both of us are positive that your time here will do everyone, including yourself, better than any prison will. Your addition to our home, while still strange and unconventional, has been a pleasure. Our boys are very fond of you, and we know that you and Kimmy have managed to find a middle ground.”

Oh, they have found _more_ than just **_that._**

“I guess what I’m getting at is…my mother made you an offer. If you choose to accept that offer, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need. If you don’t…you’re still welcome to stay here. And if you decide that you’ve served your time and no longer wish to be here…then we will let you go without question.”

He….doesn’t expect that. Sure, he’d considered that her parents might insist that he stay a little longer, but this? Monty leans back, scratching as his jaw as he finds himself not at all closer to an answer or decision. Anne jumps in at that moment, crossing arms over the table as she watches him.

“It’s nothing permanent, if that’s what you’re worried about. We know you’ve been away from home for a long time, but I’d like to think that in some ways this has felt like a little bit of home for you. We want you to be comfortable. To feel as if you are making a choice of your own free will, and no one else’s.”

Home. A loaded word, one that has changed so much in his life that he’s not even sure he fully understands what it’s meant to be and meant to feel like.

“I have…considered all options over the past few days, I assure you.” The man breaks his silence finally, wishing his glass had a few more sips of wine left in it. “I must admit…I did not exactly think that _this_ would be one of them.”

They give him time to process the information, to take in the offer being made. He does just that, while also considering the presence hidden at the top of the stairs. What is she hoping for? What does she want him to do? Leave? Forever? Or stay…stay and _fight_. To try and be the person she claims that she _wants._

“If I may speak blatantly…you would be _fools_ to allow me to stay. And it would be wrong of **_me_** to accept.” He speaks his truth now, seeing the looks on their faces and somewhat relieved that they aren’t as shocked as he thought they would be. “I ask that you allow yourselves to truly reconsider my history. To terminate your offer. It will save you the disappointment.”

“Monty. We _have_ considered it. Many times. Our offer stands. I’d like to challenge you in return,” her mother speaks, a kindness in her eyes that he’s seen in Kim’s, “Why do you feel you do not deserve it? Disregarding your past and what you’ve done previous to coming here…what is really stopping you?”

His eyes glance to the stairs, wondering again just what she’s thinking. Surely if she disagreed with her parents she would have found a way to stop all of this…right? He doesn’t know how to answer her question, not without self deprecation that he will not stand for.

“Or…maybe that’s not the right question. Maybe instead I’ll ask you this: what are the reasons you _would_ stay?”

**Her.**

So obviously _her._ To see her smile at him. To feel the silky smooth skin beneath his fingertips. To stay up through the night in a battle of minds. To take back the pain he had inflected. To kiss the scars he put there and let her find his own. To trust her with the parts of him that no one else had managed to find. No one managed to care for.

Of course, he thinks of the rest of them. Her brothers, as strange as they are, were also accepting. Inclusive. And just… _fun_. Her parents: kind, smart, and dedicated. They all care for him in their own ways, just as he does. They aren’t his family, but they have treated him as such. Something he had given up searching for a long time ago.

She’s no longer on those stairs. He hears the subtle shift of weight and wonders if Kim had heard enough. Or perhaps, she knew an answer that he didn’t. It’s hard not to wonder if that night hadn’t happened what she would tell him. What _she_ would want. Because he would listen to her. He’d stay if she wanted it, and leave just the same.

“Allow me to sleep on it…one more night.”

But he doesn’t need to sleep on it. He knows his answer: yes. A hundred times yes. He wants to stay, he wants to see where this all will take him, even if that means leaving pieces of him behind. Pieces better off discarded. Even if that does sound easier said than done, he knows it’s possible. He knows that forgiveness isn’t on the table, but redemption is. His choice is simple: walk away and return to a life of solitude– seeking power meant only for him, or stay and prove himself worthy of the kindness this family has shown him. Worthy of another chance to show Kim that he can be _exactly_ what she wants.

His only fear is if she will allow it. If his decision to stay will make her hate him. Somehow, he thinks, she’s not capable of such darkness. Of such anger. And it’s that very trust that sees him awake the next morning, just as the sun kisses the horizon. He pulls on his clothes, stepping out into the brisk morning air, and heads down those steps.

As expected…she is there.

The grandmother. Standing in the center of the dojo…waiting.

_The man that steps into this ring will not be the same one who walks out._

Monty steps up to its border, his eyes meeting the woman’s. There is a fire that takes its first breath inside of him, parts that have been left in the darkness for far too long. Taking that step up, he has no regrets on the decision made. This is the right path to take. It’s his path to take.

“I’m ready.”

———

There is work to do. Both agree that the dojo and its surroundings are not yet ideal for his training. They both agree that while he is eager to move his limbs, they are to be careful with the still healing leg. And so in silence they part ways. She works in the gardens while he prepares the dojo. Scrubbing it down, pulling equipment stored away in a nearby shed, and even going as far as to fix any of the loose boards in its base. Of course, he pulls away from his tasks to assist the woman from time to time, moving heavy stone and a collection of weeds. It’s impressive the work that they do in just a day’s time. By the end of it he’s left to his own devices for a couple hours, allowed to enjoy the space that he had worked hard to make for himself since the sun had come up.

The heavy bag keeps most of his attention, allowing him to release pent up emotions while feeling out his limbs. Testing his body. Figuring out where the mental and physical currently meet. He’s certain he could stay out there all night, listening to the sound of knuckle against leather. But he stops himself, and instead moves to end the day on to the pull up bar nearby. Relieved at the strength he’s retained, and still very much thankful for the mutations of his hands. It feels good to _do_ , and not to _think_. To feel his chest tap the cold bar, and let only a rising number take residence in his mind.

That is, until shuffling pebbles is heard behind him. He grunts as he allows himself to pull up one more time, before dropping onto his feet and feeling the beads of sweat roll down his torso. It seems his fun has come to an end, as it is certainly the old woman there to remind him of his current limits. He reaches for the small towel nearby and works to pat his face and front dry, keeping his back turned and about to inform her that he’s finished. But the visitor beats him to it.

“You stayed.”

The voice comes then. One he’d missed. One he didn’t think to hear in that moment…perhaps not even that day. There’s temptation then to jump at it; to lunge at the sudden opportunity granted to him. _Finally_ , she speaks to him. But he must remain reserved. He must remind himself of the recent moments where he allowed actions to dominate words. Monty doesn’t even turn to look at her yet, afraid that anything he does, no matter how slight, could send her away.

“I did.” He offers gently after a short time, sucking in his breath and turning to let himself cast his gaze upon her. She looks _concerned_. Skeptical…but concerned. And above all else, _careful_. The man sets his jaw, quietly admiring the way golden beams of a dying sun ignite her skin. He melts and struggles against such a golden glow, yet here she stands, claiming the rays as her own.

The temptation is almost suffocating, to go to her, to take her into his arms and taste the light that has never before shown him kindness. But he knows not to confuse that temptation with the black muck that wants nothing more than to sink its teeth into her. To swallow that golden glow and keep it locked away for only him to have. Perhaps before he would be so inclined to do so. That the very concept of taking her heart and keeping it trapped from anyone else was something to behold. To _accomplish_.

And how would that be different from his own kin? His father…who kept his mother locked away from the world she so desired to love and nourish. How would that make him different from the man he loathed? The man who drove his mother _away_ from him. It wouldn’t. One day, he thinks, Kim will know that. Kim will know of the past that haunts him…that stares back at him in his reflection. The one he wants to keep buried and breathless inside of him. She will have it, he thinks. All of it.

“Dinner is almost ready.”

He’s drawn from this thoughts, watching as the cheerleader turns away from him and heads back up the steps. And while no real words were exchanged, while he knows there will be no perfect time to try and redeem himself, something has changed. For the better, he hopes. A hand comes to his face then, rubbing his forehead as he thinks over what is to come. The challenges that await him.

“Aren’t you coming?” He looks over to see her stopped on the steps. _That_ …he doesn’t expect. She’s _waiting_ for him. And while he is stunned he wordlessly answers, moving to the bench to pull his shirt back on and to take hold of his water. He’d planned on spending more time to himself however brief, but she calls to him. And he **_won’t_** turn her down. He walks to the steps, pausing as she looks down at him. They exchange a quiet look, Monty overly aware of keeping space between them.

Every moment is now a test for him. It’s the _least_ he deserves.

“I’m not ready to talk to you.” She offers those quiet words, as if answering all of the questions he’s had bottled inside of him for days. He remains silent, letting her speak, letting her take back the control he so violently tore away. Blue eyes meet her own and let her know that he is listening…that he is prepared for anything she has to offer. “But I will be. Soon.”

A promise.

It’s far more than he deserves. No matter what she has to say, the very fact that she’s willing to offer her thoughts is more than he could have hoped for. It’s all he can do to simply nod his head slightly, hearing her. Respecting her.

Following her. Up the steps and into the house where they are both greeted with a warm meal. It is evident then. Clear as day.

He has chosen to stay. He has chosen _her_.


	11. Chances

Spring break couldn’t come sooner.

A week of what she hopes is free to only her, Ron, and Monique. No missions, no family obligations, and no... _him_. Not that he had been a nuisance in person so much as in her head. It still stung– _all_ of it. His words, his hands, and now…his decision to _stay_. To stick around and train with her grandmother. Well, she’d like to think that his decision was also in part to work things out with her, and to perhaps get them back on some sort of track. But she’s afraid to let herself think that his decision was at all based on her. At this point it would sound too good to be true. She thinks she is maxed out on let-downs for now, and promises herself to at least try to exercise ‘out of sight, out of mind’ while she’s away.

Even if there _is_ temptation to tell him ‘goodbye’, to see or hear him just once more before she leaves to board a plane and vanishes for a week. But the moment she allows herself…allows _him_ that luxury, he will win. Kim refuses to let him have that. He had taken so much from her already, she will at least try to cling to whatever dignity is left.

Yet even on the plane she finds herself wishing she had said something. Wishes she was ready to confront him…to tell him just how much he had wounded her. So that perhaps they could try to resolve it, or at the very least, move past it. A goal that seemed too distant to worry about for the time being, and so she lets out a breath and turns to both of her best friends…eager to let it all go and enjoy the moment.

———

**_Spring break?_ **

Still he can’t wrap his mind around the concept of a holiday that is meant to, what? Alleviate the stresses of _high school_? What could they _possibly_ be doing there that would require an extended period of time away? The idea of it angers him, but only because of the inconvenience that it brings:

A week without Kimberly.

They still hadn’t exchanged any words, of course. She needed time, and he would give that to her…even if waiting felt absolutely _excruciating_. There were moments he was certain they would come, the words he both fears and expects. But they never did, and he was continuously left to yearn for them over and _over_. It was torture, and he wondered if she knew that. If she knew and wanted him to feel this way.

Ah, but that isn’t her. That’s _not_ Kim Possible. It’s simply not in her nature, no matter how _horrible_ his crimes.

But… _surely_ she knew that her absence would still wreak havoc inside of him. Not being able to at least… _see_ her. To know that she is there…and that they are simply words away from each other. Words become miles now, and what’s worse is that she isn’t _alone_. No, **_he_** is there with her. That rodent loving monkey-phobic–

**_THWACK_ ** ****

“OW! You **_miserable_** –.” Monty seeks to unleash a string of colorful words at the old woman whilst rubbing the side of his head where a cane was smacked, but she stops him before he utters another syllable.

“Perhaps if you’d _focus_ a little more, you’d have been prepared for an unwarranted strike.” The woman straightens up, resting the cane in front of her– one she in no way needs for its intended purpose.

“I **_am_** focused. I’ve been meditating _all afternoon_.” He tries to argue, his temper flared by the attack that had admittedly caught him off-guard.

“No, you’ve been sitting and _steeping_ in whatever is disrupting your mind. Do I need to remind you that meditation requires a clear head?” Monty growls at her, knowing that while her words are true, he doesn’t wish to hear them. Not when there is still so much to figure out.

“Then perhaps meditation can _wait_.” He rises then, making his way over the heavy bag where he grabs a pair of wraps and begins to unravel them.

“Hmm. Maybe I had it wrong.” She walks over to him then, the cane then being poked into his chest, only to be swatted away in annoyance. “Maybe it’s not your _mind_ that’s plaguing you.”

“Give it a rest. I’ll be ready after I’ve hit something.”

“Hitting something suggests there is something you want to get **_out_**. There are other, more reliable methods, you know.” Her grandmother gives him a look, one that sees him scoffing and turning his shoulder to her.

“I’m not interested in any other _methods_. This one has worked just fine.” Damn this woman, and her incessant prying. It’s a wonder how Kim was able to put up with it all.

“Oh right, because you are the spitting image of someone who is balanced and at _peace_ within yourself.” The woman turns with a disappointed breath then, waving a hand over his shoulder carelessly, “Perhaps if **_Kimberly_** were here, she’d have better luck getting through to you.”

His eyes widen at that, turning sharply with fire in his eyes and completely disregarding the wraps that dangle fro his wrists.

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

The woman turns back to him, hands folded behind her and face suggesting feigned innocence in her words.

“Hm? Oh I was merely remembering seeing the last time you two spoke. And the… _many_ times before that. Your energy is far less… _erratic_ with her around.”

Monty’s face twists into something between shock and anger, leaving him momentarily speechless as he stares hard at the woman who seems to be…insinuating something. No. No…she can’t _possibly_ …there is no _way_ she knows. Could she? No, he is careful. They were **_both_** careful.

“Now that I think about it, I imagine her absence is taking quite the… _adjustment_ , isn’t it?”

Oh, he’s had it with that. How _dare_ she try to slip her way into his head. Making such ridiculous claims– for how could _she_ know anything of it? Of what he’s feeling? Of what his and Kim’s relationship had been? He’s not even sure where to start as he is bursting at the seams with anger; and making no allies with himself in the process, he decides to speak before thinking.

“She’s left _before_ , galavanting the world and saving the **_idiots_** within it. This is no different– it has absolutely no effect on me. And to suggest that her presence contributes to my stability both mentally and emotionally is _outrageous_. She is just a _cheerleader_ who’s only interest is parading on a beach with that hapless fool she calls a ** _friend_**.”

Oh. Oh he has said too much…hasn’t he?

He shuts himself up quickly, realizing the lack of control over words spilled out of anger and resentment. All to her grandmother, of all people, who seems to know a little more than she’s admitting to.

What had he just done? Had he ruined it all? Shown his cards to his opponent? One who could very well take back all that was recently afforded to him? But all she does is stand there, studying his loss of composure before giving him a single nod of her head.

“Looks like you’ve got a lot of hitting to do. I’ll be back.”

How humiliating. This is how _his_ mistakes happen, when he can’t control what’s inside of him. When it all comes out no different than an explosion. Seeking to destroy everything in its path, even his own self. Monty looks back to the bag, knowing deep down that no matter how much or how hard he hits the thing, it won’t rid him of the feelings at war inside of him. Nor will it clean up the mess he has just made. And if Kim knew…

“Idiot.” His head hits leather, letting himself soak in his stupidity against the bag before pulling himself together and finishing the job wrapping his hands.

As expected, the vicious attacks towards the bag of sand does nothing to ease him. And boy does he try. No matter who’s face he sees, no matter the words in his head, and no matter the pain he induces from violent blows– nothing changes.

The grandmother doesn’t return either, which _does_ concern him. He’s not sure what to expect when walking back into the house, but is relieved when it is no different than any other time. There is a very real fear that what he had said would reach the ears of her parents. That her grandmother perhaps took the time to truly consider the situation and has decided that his place here is no longer wanted. But they offer him dinner as always, and even try to make conversation with him. He partly feels bad when he quickly dismisses himself– unable to focus on anything else but the jumbled mess in his head.

Attempting sleep feels just as useless, and he eventually gives up and submits to his mind that runs rampant on where Kim is, what she’s doing, and if she’s at all as mentally strained as he is in that moment.

And why would she be? She must be having the time of her life. Laying on a beach with her friends with not a worry in the world. Meeting new people, no doubt, who are just now realizing how lucky they are. That perhaps they might also try to take her away from him. As if they have the right– don’t they know? Doesn’t _she_ know? That if he can’t have her, **_no one_** can.

No. No, that is simply _insane._ That is not _him_ thinking. That is something else, the possessive and controlling beast inside of him that he’s not sure can be tamed. Kim doesn’t belong to anyone, she’s not a thing. Not a _prize_ to be won. She is so much _more_ than that. And if he did not know that before, he surely does now.

Morning comes and he heads straight to the dojo, surprised again when the grandmother doesn’t show up. Regardless, he begins his training on his own– only waiting until the sun is highest in the sky to find her enjoying a cool drink on the porch.

“Since when do _you_ take days off?” Monty greets dryly, covered in sweat as he glares at her. He takes the nearby pitcher of iced tea and pours his own glass, completely unaware of just how…unhinged he currently appears. Eyes darker, hair in desperate need of taming, and a five o clock shadow that is now a day passed.

“I can’t help you when you’re _this_ distracted.” She’s reading the paper, not even bothering to spare him a glance as she speaks, “You either _want_ to train and _learn_ , or you want to live inside your head and _suffer_. You can’t do both.”

Monty rolls his eyes at that, chugging down the sweet drink before placing it down on the table with a force that speaks to his annoyance. It appears that for now, he’s on his own. Not a problem, he can handle it.

…right?

“I’m figuring it out.” He retorts, wondering if she’s chosen to forget what he had practically admitted to her or if she herself is still pondering what to do with such information. He hates not knowing. Hates not being able to read the woman. How can he possibly prepare for whatever route she decides to take?

“Huh. Could have fooled _me._ ”

Oh, she was absolutely **_infuriating_**. This goes on for days now, leaving the man further frustrated and lost in unwanted thoughts that have seemed to multiply now. Each day is worse, leaving him on edge for every corner turned or voice heard sees him waiting for the unknown. Will she say anything? Tell her parents? Tell Kim? And Kim…what is she doing now? What’s on her mind? Is it him? Or is she so enamored with her company that she won’t spare him a second thought?

_She said she wants you. Did she lie?_

_She despises you. This was her escape._

_No, she belongs to you, and she_ **_knows_ ** _it._

It doesn’t stop. The doubt, the envy, the anger…all of it suddenly suffocating him. And then he wonders– should he have stayed? Is this really meant to be? Or should he have returned home…returned to the very solitude he’d found his comfort in? The days seem to blur together, and when he’s been up for far too long and exhausted his body through rigorous and torturous training, sleep is finally found. Unwanted, but ultimately needed. Of course, he sleeps through a day which is disconcerting to the rest of the household who have picked up on his shift in mood as of late. But they give him his space, and save him food for when he comes to.

Sleep doesn’t solve anything, but it does give him some much needed rest and a clearer head. He wakes in the afternoon the day after his long slumber, and doesn’t even bother showering or eating– as he walks outside in search of the grandmother. It does surprise him that she’s at the dojo, sitting on the bench almost as if she knew he’d find her there. Walking right up to her, he takes a deep breath and stares at her.

This is it, isn’t it? His chance to get it all out. To let the words escape him, and to trust in a woman who may make or break his time to come. There is so much to lose– but another day of this will only take him back. He can sense that it is working to undo everything he’s worked for, and he will not let it win.

“I did something I shouldn’t have, **_alright?_** To Kim. I…betrayed her. _Disrespected_ her. And I can’t take it back, I know I can’t, but I am trying…I am trying to be better.” They come out and they are rough around the edges, wrapped in thorns and drenched in poison. But they are out. Those things are now…out of him. He grits his teeth, turning his gaze away and doesn’t stop there.

“I’m trying not to let it happen _again_. But she won’t _speak_ to me– and I **_know_** she needs time. I know that one can’t simply administer a bandaid over such an open wound but…she is _gone_. She is gone and I have no **_idea_** if what I’m doing is what she wants. No idea if what I’m doing will change anything…make it better or make it _worse_. And how will I know that the answer she might have had before will be the same when she comes back? She’s with that **_imbecile_**. That _child_ who walks around with a power he can’t begin to even _fathom_. I can only imagine what he’s telling her. Turning _me_ into the enemy. And…yes… _technically_ speaking that is what I am…what I’ve always been…but that’s not the point. The point is that it’s all working against me. **_I’m_** working against me. What chance do I have at changing anything if all of her cards are against my favor and I’m not even **_dealt_** a hand?”

He pauses for a moment, cringing as he thinks back to what the grandmother had called him… _erratic_.

“I’m losing it. I feel completely out of control. All because I obviously can’t handle the fact that she is on _holiday_ …just trying to _enjoy_ herself.”

He stops then, finally taking a breath, realizing that he’s just about got out every invasive thought sticking knives into him. The weight is gone, and in that moment he lets himself sit upon the ground, pushing hands into unruly black hair. Had he really just said all of that…out loud? To another person?

“You’re _right_.” He admits, finding that in that moment there is…nothing left to lose. Why not be completely honest? “I _am_ better when she’s around.”

Silence fills the void between them, and he finds himself not caring much for what her response may be– even if it is one that may put this whole thing in danger. What he doesn’t quite expect is the chuckle sounding from the woman, seeing him look up at the delighted face peering down at him. The laugh not cruel, and almost…relieved.

“That sure is a longwinded way of saying you _miss_ someone.”

Is that what this is? What **_all_** of this is? Does he… _miss_ her? Thinking over it, he supposes it may just make the most sense. Hell, the moment he considers it…he feels that remaining tension slip away from him.

“Assume the lotus position, Monty, and hear my voice.” He obliges her without question, closing his eyes and taking in a steady breath. His mind clear, and the whole of him ready to accept whatever the woman has to offer.

“There is no shame in missing one’s spirit. We often rely on the energies around us to guide our hearts and minds. It comes to no surprise that you’ve found yourself connected to my granddaughter.”

Connected isn’t a word he’d have associated with what has conspired between them, but his job in that moment isn’t to seek for clarification or second guess his own previous thoughts. He hears those words and lets them just… exist.

“Somehow I think you’ve not engaged with such an energy before, and therefor don’t quite understand yet how to pull from it when it’s not physically there. I imagine that if not now, she has or will struggle with the very same problem. It can be an alarming process, but there is something for you to try.”

He’s not known the woman to say things only to appease others. And while there is no doubt that the things being said are far more complicated than they are made in that moment, it does bring him a little peace to know that he may not be the only one relying on their bond.

“Often when we seek that of someone who is physically absent, we are eager to reach outwards and grasp at anything that may feel or seem familiar. However, think of what it is that you believe connects them to you. What is it that _inside_ of you, anchors them to your soul? If you can find that…you can find their energy. And within yourself, you can restore just enough…balance.”

It surprises him when the face that comes to mind with those lasting words is his mother’s. Remembering how desperate he once was to fill the void her absence had left inside of him. Remembering the look on Kim’s face when he had told her of that absence. She saw something that he didn’t. A piece of him hidden, even from himself.

The next time he opens his eyes, the sky is dark. Crickets heard in the distance, as well as muffled music coming from the house behind him. He feels…lighter. His hand moves to his chest to feel the steady beat of his heart, thinking back to the words heard in his trance. A successful meditation that has grounded him, and had given him insight from a woman he feared would punish him for his honesty. A woman who isn’t to be seen anywhere.

Rising, he heads back to the house, quickly showering and dressing into clean clothes before heading up the steps to a family he’d been avoiding for days. How many? He still isn’t quite sure about it and is embarrassed to know. It had been such a hectic week only to his own fault. Of course, the answer to his question becomes obvious the moment he steps into the kitchen.

Kim is there, leaning against the counter, smiling and watching a demonstration of a new device built by her brothers.

Seven days. It had been ** _seven days_**.

A full week he had been absolutely _losing_ it.

He knows that if he looks a moment longer, it will rouse suspicion from all other parties in the room, but he can’t help but admire the sun kissed glow she now carries. What he would do to go to her in that moment, and to declare what he just had to her grandmother who sits nearby. But he reserves himself, even when Kim finally looks to him he makes way to his master and sits beside her. Her mother already acknowledging him and preparing a plate, happy to see him join them after isolating himself for so long.

Monty inhales deeply, relaxing into the sofa and threading his fingers together over his lap. He feels better. Not _perfect_ …but better.

“It helped.” Is all he offers the woman, looking ahead at the television and speaking lowly. The grandmother smiles, offering him a comforting rub to his back before patting it with reinforcement.

“You are **_Monkey Fist_**. Strong and resilient…but _still_ human. Still _learning_.”

Human. _Learning_. Months ago he’d consider those insults, but in that moment he is grateful to hear it. To know that while things change inside and around him, he is not completely _lost_.

“Now, the _real_ fun will begin tomorrow. Don’t be late.” Monty scoffs at that, watching her rise and walk away. It’s not until he turns that he sees the reason why. Kim walks over to him, bowl in hand. It’s offered to him, and he accepts wordlessly, setting it into his lap and focusing on the girl who now settles beside him. They share a quiet look, Monty debating on whether or not he should bring to light everything that has happened in the previous week. In the previous _hours_. He decides against it. Knowing that while he has only just briefly stabilized the chaos inside of him, there is still so much more to do.

He does break his silence, however, taking a mouthful of the food and chancing a question that will at least make all of this real.

“Did you enjoy your trip?” _God_. Even _he_ is disgusted by how fake he sounds. And to no surprise, Kim sees right through it with a scoff of her own. She knows him all too well, knows that he could not have been pleased with her whereabouts and company.

“Do you _really_ care?” She asks, smirking as she watches him settle back into his skin for a moment. She’s giving him a chance there to be his authentic self…without penalty.

“Not really.” They both share a small grin then, a knowing one that doesn’t need much explanation between them. He goes back to his meal, feeling her eyes still upon him. There’s no doubt that she sees the sleepless nights that he’s had, the result of a torture he’s been enduring for the past week.

“It was…fine.” She answers him softly. “Glad to be home.”

He knows he shouldn’t say it. Knows that he may just be pushing her farther back when he does. But he can’t stop the words, and won’t allow himself to regret saying them.

“I’m glad you are, too.”

Her features soften at those words, somewhat surprised to hear them. A hand comes up to feel his shoulder, her thumb stroking the thick fabric that covers it briefly before rising and leaving him to his dinner.

———

Monty is eager to find proper sleep that night, especially with the unknown waiting for him in his training the next day. And knowing that while he was able to find some peace with Kim’s absence, she has returned. She’s there, safe and resting just two floors above him. And while she may not ever know just what comfort that brings him, he can at least accept it within himself. It’s more than he’s ever been able to do.

As expected, it doesn’t take long to submit to rest once his head hits the pillow. He’s brought back to her grandmother’s words…his mother’s face…and then Kim’s. All that could stir a dangerous mix within him, but finds that it lulls his mind in that moment. Eyes closing, fingers gripping into the sheet that sits over his hips, Monty falls asleep. For how long before something starts tugging at his mind? He’s not quite sure. Long enough to allow an intruder into his space, however.

Years and years of training and sleeping in jungles– one learns when that of a predator has sniffed out a vulnerable being. And within moments he pulls himself out of an unconscious state, rising alerted and with sharp eyes that find the presence in his room. A shadow sitting upon the nearby armchair. Tense muscles ease at the sight, heart steadying from an elevated rate, and finally a breath is released. He isn’t in danger. But when it becomes clear to him who it is that sits curled in the seat, he is far from relaxed. A quick glance at the clock….3AM. The middle of the night.

“Kim,” he breathes out her name, sitting up in his bed and running a hand through his hair. “Are you alright?”

Why would she be here? **_Alone_** with him…in his own _domain_ , no less.

“I couldn’t sleep.” She offers quietly, knees pulled to her chest with her chin tucked into her arms. The admission sees his him ease, instantly tempted to comfort her. To help her find what he’d lost for days. But before he can move or speak or try to help, she speaks again.

“I’m tired of running away from it. From _you_. From what you said…what you **_did_**.”

It becomes painfully clear then. This is it. The moment he’d been waiting for…whilst also dreading. It alarms him, feeling completely unprepared even if it’s all that he had been thinking about.

“Kim, I-.”

“Please... let me finish.” Her voice is soft, but firm. This is not his time to speak…to do anything but sit there and hear her out. “I…have a lot to say. Just…listen to me.”

Monty shuts up. Obeys her wishes. And listens.

“It’s all I think about. It keeps…replaying in my head…over and _over_. Like I’m trying to find something to _excuse_ what you did. Every time I’ve failed. So I gave up…and started wondering instead: what is it that is… _actually_ hurting me? The answer came quicker to _that_ one.” Her eyes look to him then, and even through the dark the anger…the hurt…it was all evident within her stare.

“It felt like…you _tricked_ me. Like you dangled something in front of my face to get me near…to get close enough until I fell into your trap. And once I was there, someone else had come out. Had claimed their _want_ for me. And I was **_helpless_**. Frozen and _powerless_. Subjected to touches and words I had been _waiting_ for…but all coming from someone I didn’t recognize. No…someone I **_did_** recognize. Someone I looked the other way for, in hopes that he was at the very least …dormant. But that was a mistake, because just as I’ve always known you…you found an opening, and couldn’t _resist_.”

There is anger there, but it doesn’t quite feel that it is aimed at him more than herself. And while he wants to jump in, to make sure that she’s not putting the blame on herself, he bites his tongue and allows her to continue.

“And I know you’ve thought it. I know you’ve thought that you aren’t the _only one_ at fault. And you’re not, okay? I know that. But all I keep thinking about is what you said….about ** _killing_** this part of you…a part of you that you don’t think _exists_. And if that’s true, Monty, then who is it?Who have I been speaking to? Who have I been _trusting_? Who was I going to _kiss_ on that sofa over there?”

She gestures over to it, a crack heard in her voice, one that tightens the grip felt around his lungs.

“Is that what it is, Monty? The rejection? The _interruption?_ If I _had_ kissed you…you wouldn’t have been in my room that night, would you? It would have been the first of many…wouldn’t it? I’m _sorry_. I was afraid. I’m _still_ afraid.”

Her hands come back to hold her knees, controlling the shake in her voice as she fights back the emotions previously trapped inside of her. She’s silent for a few moments, taking a breath and regaining some composure before continuing.

“What I’m _not_ sorry for is turning you down. For trying to get _through_ to you, even at your **_worst_**. You talk constantly about not letting anyone hurt you, and it blinds you so much that you can’t even see when you’re hurting _yourself_. I realize, Monty, that trusting you wasn’t the problem. That nothing I could have done or said would change the outcome of what happened. It was _you_ … and your love affair with _control._ Your ** _obsession_** with power. Things you think keep you safe from what you fear most: pain and loss. Things you have depended on for so long– you don’t even see that they’ve only ever ** _sabotaged_** you.”

That…is a lot to take in. And while there is a flare of anger and shame that lashes his pride, he knows that what she speaks is…the truth. His forehead falls into his hand, seeing just what she means. Here she is, reading him like an open book…she had found an understanding of him, she had seen the good, the bad, and the ugly of all that is Monkey Fist, and still decided to give him a chance. And what he responded with was bared teeth and claws, chasing her away…due to the very things she mentions.

All of this coming from a damned cheerleader. It almost sounds like a bad joke.

“All of that is to say…my feelings _haven’t_ changed, Monty. I _still_ want you. The **_you_** that you’re _dying_ to protect. And maybe one day… you’ll be ready to let me help you protect him. But only _I_ will know when that is. _You_ don’t get to decide. And if it’s not clear enough…this is a second chance… and it is the _only_ one you’ll get.”

That sees his head look back up, in utter shock as he watches Kim rise from her seat. A second chance? Even he knows that with everything she had said, he doesn’t deserve one. He doesn’t deserve _her_. She lists out every reason why she should give up on him, and yet still doesn’t. It completely baffles him, so much so that it delays the relief he feels.

The excitement…that there is a chance to prove to her that he ** _is_** more. That is what he wanted, after all: another chance.

The back of her hands wipe at her cheeks, a trembling inhale seeing her compose herself before quietly wishing him a good night. She heads up the steps, but Monty…utterly grateful for what has just been given to him, calls out to her.

“Kim.” 

She stops and turns to look at him, willing to allow him words now that hers have been exhausted.

“…thank you.”


	12. April

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is gonna be a little different. It’s kind of like a 3-in-1 with three small one-shots. I figured that since up until this point, the story has been pretty angsty (well, on purpose of course!) so this chapter is meant to be a few of the good times that happens before picking back up into the main story. It all takes place through the month of April just incase there’s any confusion on where we’re at timeline-wise, and the first ‘story’ picks up right from the previous chapter. That also means this story overall is almost near its end! Anyway, do enjoy!

**Rockets**

She finds comfort in her sleep that night.

Curled up in her cool sheets wrapped tightly around her, remembering the shape of his silhouette when she spoke her truth to him. Seeing the shame and hearing his determination. Her second chance was the right one to give, but it is oh so fragile. And to see it broken…she fears it would ruin her. For even as she lays there, she wishes he were beside her. Even as she trembled in that seat moments ago, uttering words carefully formed and mulled over weeks, she wished she could go to him. To feel the warmth of his hands. The safety she knew those arms could bring. If being away from him the past seven days had taught her anything, it was that even despite what had happened in this very room, she wanted him. Needed him. Things were simply just not the same otherwise.

Of course, she means _him_. The _real_ him. Who she has learned to admire…to respect…and to care for on a level that she doesn’t quite understand just yet. All she knows is that…he’s in there. And that she is willing to see this all through to the end. An end that will be dependent on them both. And all she can hope for is that he tries. That he tries to prove that his words and his actions weren’t just all poisonous treats fed to her.

Does he truly understand the trust that she’s putting into him? Everything that she is _sacrificing_ , in hopes that he won’t betray her again?

Only time will tell.

Despite the hand offered to him, Kim isn’t quick to go salvaging much more just yet. It works out that her grandmother steals him away early in the mornings, and keeps him busy through the day. She’s able to roam the house with no worry of bumping into him the next day, or the few after that. Curiosity does see her looking out the window from time to time, wondering just what it was that they were doing. And if it weren’t for the piles of work stacking up now that school had resumed, she’d have gone out and found an answer to that very question.

The few days fly by while she settles back into academics and cheerleading. For once she finds herself grateful that the need for Kim Possible was presently unnecessary. With her senior year quickly coming to an end, there was enough on her plate to deal with. But given that she had taken a week away, her parents are keen on a night to themselves. It’s the middle of the week and they’ve declared a date night– one that even she can admit is overdue. Money is left on the counter, but the twins had been nowhere in sight since she had arrived home. Not a… _great_ sign. With her Nana’s car gone, she can only assume that Monty is done with his training…but the two hadn’t crossed paths since the night upon her return. She’s not even sure how she’d go about picking things up again, and so she decides to let that play out on its own.

Alas, two growing boys and a man who’s been physically exhausting himself? One of two is sure to come find her for plans of food. And so she rests in the living room, playing soft music and reading a book for class. She’s not wrong about being sought out eventually, but when footsteps are heard storming up from the basement she is ultimately unprepared for the offer soon to be thrown at her.

“Kim! It’s ready.” She looks up at her brothers who stand with wide grins, both hiding something behind their backs.

A single brow raises, studying the both of them before sighing, placing the book down, and biting.

“Uh…okay, great. What exactly _is_ … ‘it’?”

“A rocket, duh. Well…a _special_ kind of rocket. We’re going down to the park to finally light this thing up. You wanna come?” The moment they ask is the very same moment that Monty rounds the corner, standing on the threshold and leaning his shoulder against the frame into the living room.

Their eyes meet, and she quietly admits just how hard it is to finally look upon him after weeks of separation. Of words so different than what they previously shared. She wonders just what he’s thinking as well, and hating that she may never know.

“They roped you into it, too?” She acknowledges him, placing the book to the side and rising, shaking off the subtle nerve his presence has brought to her.

“I figure _one_ adult should probably be there.” She smirks at that answer, letting out a breath and moving to turn off the radio.

“Alright. Lead the way.” She’s not thrilled to be walking into what could potentially be a _disaster_ , but she doesn’t hate that Monty is tagging along.

It amuses her the friendship he’s made with her brothers. It felt almost instant. She’s not sure she could say that they adore him, but they’ve definitely let him into their pack, so to speak. It’s also surprising how well tempered he can be while also aware of how invasive her brothers can get. And _annoying_. She doesn’t want to dumb it down to just being a ‘guy’ thing but…if the boot fits.

Awkward isn’t exactly how it feels to now be in his presence after the two of them spent the previous days with Kim’s words hanging over their heads. A little uncertain, sure, but somehow she’s convinced that things will be better. Or at the very least…okay. And so the twins walk ahead of them, leaving the two to follow at their own slower pace. Even for early spring, the night feels _perfect_. Still warm enough to be comfortable while walking towards the park in town.

She’s not totally worried that they’ll be running into anyone given how late it is, but she is overly aware that walking around in public with Monkey Fist is a risk she shouldn’t be taking regardless.

“Do I dare ask what it is on your mind?” His voice pulls her from her thoughts, seeing her turn to look up at him. The curiosity is genuine and almost concerning as she studies his face. She can only imagine what he must be assuming in that moment.

“Just that _this_ is a bad idea.”

She realizes quickly her poor choice in words, but is too slow to clarify herself before he asks the inevitable.

“…which part?” They hadn’t spoken in days, just after she had told the man that she’s giving him a second chance. She’s certain she couldn’t have said anything worse in that moment.

Pulling it together, she smiles up at him, taking a chance and letting her hand find the inside of his forearm where fingers gently squeeze.

“Watching my brothers light a _rocket_ in the middle of town while escorting a _fugitive_ to do so.” The smile that carves his lips in that moment is a sight to behold. It’s contagious, and she finds herself at ease in that moment. Glad that the physical touch is accepted, and that it and her words have eased him.

“A _mild_ Wednesday night, if you ask me.” A bite of her lip sees her trying to suppress such a grin, and she knows that the man must be delighted by such a reaction. After all, his eyes don’t leave her for a while, only until that hand slides from his arm, brushing his hand before letting it fall back to her side.

It feels normal again. Well, normal for _them_.

…

Okay, a little _more_ than normal.

They make it to the park, both of them letting the twins do their thing while they find a nearby picnic table. They sit upon the table top, resting their feet on the bench while watching them set everything up. Kim chews at her lip, remembering the weight of her words and knowing that the man beside her is exercising what caution he can. He won’t be the first to engage, not after she had so very clearly written the rules out for them. And so finally she breaks, summoning the courage to look over at him.

“You…really don’t have _any_ siblings? Not even some twisted cousins?” She remembers that conversation back in December, the story he had told to scare the twins off.

“Wouldn’t **_I_** be considered the twisted cousin?” Monty smirks, meeting her gaze with raised brows. “Ah, but no. An only child, through and through.”

“So you have… _no one?_ No estranged aunt or uncle or…even a butler who takes it upon themselves to look after you?” Kim knows she might be pushing the wrong buttons here, but reminds herself that it doesn’t matter. That everything he decides to do and say…that is all on him.

“ _No_ , Kimberly. No _Alfred_ waiting for me at home in the Batcave.” She’s delighted at the reference, her eyes shifting back to the twins who continue preparing the rocket. “Of course, it’s not _entirely_ lonesome… I do have my children.”

 ** _Children?_** He…did not just– what is he saying? What is he admitting to right now? Did she hear him right? Oh if only she could see her own face as she fails at putting the words together before jumping to the worst conclusion.

“Uh… ** _what?_** ” Her head snaps over to him, a flare in her gaze that sees him all too delighted.

“Why do you sound so surprised? You’ve _met_ them.”

She pales at that, her palms finding her face as she covers it in embarrassment.

Oh. **_Oh._**

“Oh my god. You’re talking about your _monkeys_ , aren’t you?”

Monty laughs, leaning back and enjoying the little show he’s just made for himself. “You were going to _hit_ me just now, weren’t you?”

The man is evil. _Pure evil_. Well… it’s an evil that she prefers over what he has demonstrated before.

Finally she picks her head up, the back of her hand swinging back into his chest which does see him cough out a chuckle before capturing that hand in his own. He brings it to his lap, gently holding onto it, and Kim who is still quietly reeling at her embarrassing reaction, doesn’t seek to remove it from his hold.

  
“It would have been _worse_ than _that_.” She warns playfully, seeing him grin and while both are busy looking to one another, their fingers slide quietly together.

It feels right, strangely. After all of the ups and downs…the very steep downs…they have found a new place almost instantly. One where both are unafraid and more confident than before. Perhaps because the end goal is clear, and it is obvious now more than ever that both of them want to reach it.

“I did _raise_ most of them, you know. Others I’ve rescued. We might not share the same _blood_ …”

“Aw…you’re their evil monkey _dad_. How _sweet_.” Kim pouts at him, sarcasm coating words that truly do see her heart throbbing just a tad more for him.

Monty rolls his eyes at it, and she could swear that even under the guise of night there is a red tint to his cheeks. “Don’t ruin it.”

Kim laughs softly at that, her hand squeezing his own to draw back his attention.

“If you’ve been here this whole time…then…what’s happened to them?”

“Oh, they are undoubtedly enjoying an extended _vacation_. And while they are more than capable of taking care of themselves, Bates…the valet you met in Cambodia…he is with them.”

It brings her some comfort to know that they aren’t forgotten, and that bringing Monty to her home hadn’t meant that he was forced to… _abandon_ them. And even if that were the case, she figures he’d do everything in his power to make sure that they were taken care of.

“And…do you miss them?” It’s the one question she thinks he won’t answer, and if he didn’t…she’d be okay with that. He’s offered more than she could hope for now, and the thumb sliding over his knuckle absentmindedly is evidence to that.

“I do.” An answer. A truthful one. But his sincerity is cut short when he overhears one of the boy’s utter something along the lines of ‘Uh, is it _supposed_ to do that?’

He tears away from her and leaps from the bench, seeing the sudden smoke coming from the rocket and the spark lit beneath it. He lunges towards them, grabbing the scruffs of their shirts and yanking them backwards. They all see a flare of bright white– knocking them onto their backs as they watch the rocket shoot up into the sky.

“ _Yes!_ It worked!” Jim exclaims, fists shooting into the air with excitement even as his face is painted black with soot.

“That’s… _it?_ ” Monty makes a face over at him, clearly not very impressed.

“Just wait, Monty ol’ chap.” Tim assures in his dreadful mocking of the English accent, “You haven’t even seen the best _part_.”

Narrowed eyes look back to the sky where only the tail of the rocket’s smoke can be seen. A few moments later, an explosion is heard before it is seen. And what lights up the sky is red streaks and sparks. Fireworks. Large and expanded enough to light up the whole park in red lights.

Kim is just as impressed, staring up at the sky and then back to her brothers and Monty who are still on the ground and admiring the show. Looking upon them all…she thinks it’s far more pleasing than anything happening in the sky above her.

**Blood**

“Come _on_. This is getting too **_easy_** now. I’m ready to test myself. On a real opponent– not some _sand._ ”

Monty rolls his shoulders while approaching the older woman, hoping at the very least that she’d consider his request. She does give him a grin, which promises… _something._ After weeks of building strength back into his leg, and driving his endurance back up with grueling routines, he’s eager to finally measure his recovery. And so he stands with arms folded, awaiting his master’s thoughts.

“You know, I was thinking the very same thing. You need a _new_ challenge. Perhaps something that will _humble_ you.” The man scoffs at that, his grin wide and hungry.

“Oh? Are you finally ready to back up that _bark_ of yours?” It wasn’t his intention to ever go toe to toe with the old woman…but after training with her for just about a month, he’s learned quickly that looks **_are_** deceiving. To face her would be an _honor._

“You _wish_. No. You’re going to be sparring _her_.”

His grin vanishes quickly then, turning around to find the cheerleader stretching near the bench. Wearing nothing but a sports bra and shorts. He tears his gaze away almost immediately, knowing the longer he looked the more suspicion would arise from the woman in front of him. The woman who already knows _far_ too much.

“I’m **_not_** fighting her.”

“Aw, afraid to _lose?_ ” Kim teases behind him, walking towards them both while pulling up red locks into a comfortable ponytail. He makes a face at that, watching as she joins them both.

“ _Hardly_.” He drawls while giving her a look as she she smirks and shrugs her shoulders, sauntering over to the weapons stand. He looks to the grandmother then, concern clear in his eyes. “I don’t want to get…carried away.”

Kim, of course, can hold her own on a bad day…but he does fear that one wrong move might hurt her. And since the name of the game is to do everything _but_ , it does complicate things.

“Then _don’t._ ” She makes that sound far too simple. A roll of his eyes and he turns just in time to catch the bo staff tossed to him.

“Don’t go taking it easy on me. I’ll _know_.” Kim warns with a playful grin, taking her stance a few feet away. He hadn’t realized how much he’d miss that very stance– that determination in her eyes…

She is _beautiful._ Strong. A true match.

He returns the smile, taking a few steps back before sliding into his own stance. Ready to take their chess game to a physical level yet again. They wait patiently, locking eyes all the while. And finally, when the air seems to settle around them, her grandmother speaks.

“Begin.”

And so it does.

Kim charges first– something he expects. And when she’s taken to the air and the staff is raised above her and ready to come crashing down on him, he accepts it with his own. But it is controlled, using her momentum to fall back onto his shoulders as her staff lands against his. Rolling back, his feet launch her backwards and far enough for him to swiftly get back up. The man turns and takes his chance to attack.

While those first few moments feel promising, he is quickly learning that despite his hours of progress and dedication…he is still far from recovered. Kim is relentless, and even through his difficulty, he finds himself constantly admiring it. His moves are sloppier, but not worthless. His strength and speed are there, but hindered due to the discomfort growing in his leg. A limb she seems to be purposely avoiding as they spar at length.

It gives him an idea further on. And should he really punish her for being kind? Probably not. But it doesn’t stop him from doing so. They both grow tired, and when her own movements and strikes begin to slow, he takes his chance. Sacrificing his own staff, he throws it right at her like a damned spear. She’s forced to block it, giving him just enough of an opening to wrap his foot around her ankle, pulling it back while hands grab her own staff and shove her forward onto her back.

He lands on top of her, grinning as he presses down the staff close to her throat– careful not to apply any pressure, of course. “Losing your _touch?_ ” He growls with delight, watching as her eyes narrow up at him.

“Save the arrogance for _after_ you win.”

Is that… _feet_ he feels under his armpits?

Suddenly he is shoved forward and off of her, realizing the clever move made by the cheerleader who had hooked her feet under his arms and escaped the pinning of his weight. Only now he is weaponless, and as he turns and lifts his bad leg up to rise– he is stopped. The muscles unwilling to bend to his will in that moment, which leaves him open the the vicious blow that is to come.

Kim swings the staff hard and true right to his face. All while he’s on one knee, completely unsuspecting of the wood that meets his nose and jaw. If he hadn’t been on the receiving end of it, he’d be delighted by the form and opportunity taken. But it ** _is_** his face. And while he knows there was no full strength behind the strike, it still sees him fall back with pain and force. He lands on his side, groaning as he pushes up onto his elbow.

Monty brings a hand to his face, feeling the warm spill of blood before any other part of him does. It fills his mouth quickly due to a canine piercing the inside of his top lip, and so his first instinct is to turn and spit it out. A spray of it now covering the deck of the ring. It’s not the first time he’s gotten a bloody nose or busted lip, but the hit rung his bell a bit and that is what keeps him still. Not that he expected any less from his opponent who runs over to him immediately and kneels at his side. A hand is felt on his wrist, gently peeling away his bloody fingers to reveal a red and toothy grin.

“I deserved that.” The man admits as his vision settles and he can finally see the face of Kim who looks absolutely horrified. But even then Kim can’t help but smile at those words, however weakly, still very much pained by the now bloodied man who is obviously not as hurt as the spilled blood would lead one to believe.

“Yeah. You _did._ ” Kim agrees with a small smirk, obviously not completely convinced by that, but knowing that final strike was in part for that move he pulled just before. And…maybe for all of the other horrible things he had done to her. _Maybe._

“Well? Will you get off the floor?– you’re making a _mess_.” Her grandmother chides him as she walks by, “Oh, and you **_lost_** by the way.”

“ _Noted._ ” Monty retorts, letting Kim help get him to his feet before escorting him to the bench nearby. Red droplets find his chest, streaking down to his stomach as he sits down and tilts his head forward.

“I’m so sorry.” He looks …awful, and even if there was a small part of her that did enjoy it, she finds herself battling off the shame of it. Kim tries to take a small cloth up to his face to help, but he turns away just before and spits another wad of blood into the plants behind him. That earns him a role of her eyes, and so she grabs his jaw then, forcing him to look at her. “Okay, maybe _not_ into the garden? Hold that.”

She pulls it together, focusing on getting him cleaned up before letting anymore guilt overwhelm her. And so he takes the cloth from her hand, tilting his head down as he holds it over his nose and mouth, letting it collect the blood while Kim rises to take the first aid kit brought over by her grandmother who had fetched it from the shed.

“Come up for lunch once you’ve pulled it together.” Her Nana calls to him over Kim’s shoulder, returned with a dark glare from the man. Kim grins with amusement, resting her hand on the woman’s shoulder.

“We’ll be there in a bit. Need me to walk you up?”

The woman snickers and throws a hand in the air. “Please, **_he_** needs more help than _I_ do.” Kim does catch that playful smirk on her face before she turns and leaves them. She carries over the tin box, sitting beside him and opening it up on her lap.

“Let me see?” She watches him pull the cloth away, seeing that the trickle of blood appears to have slowed enough from his nose. “Alright. Here.” She leans down to collect the bottle of water, “Wash your face.”

He does as he’s told, but not without first taking a long sip and washing it around in his mouth, spitting it out into the dirt near his feet. Kim makes a face, one that delights Monty who grins and starts to wash and rub the stained blood from his face.

“Gross, Monty.” But the face made eases into a little amusement, Monty chuckling and continuing to clean himself the best he can.

“You did say: _not_ the plants.”

“And the next best thing was our feet?”

“Is there _no_ pleasing you Possible women?” Kim laughs at that, teeth finding her bottom lip as she tries to control her smile.

“You know, she likes you.” Kim says then, her eyes shifting over at him before fingers collect what she needs from the tin. Monty scoffs, drying his face with the unsoiled part of the cloth.

“She’s got a funny way of showing it.” The man retorts, lifting a hand to feel the cut on his nose but Kim is quick to knock it away, already reaching up with a cotton swab prepped with ointment to dab gently at it.

“Sounds like someone _else_ I know.” Kim muses, breath hitching when a warm hand finds the outside of her thigh. Calloused fingers that spread over the warmth of her skin, curling slightly at the tips to catch on soft flesh.

“I like to think I’m a _little_ more obvious.” His voice is low, and while that once might worry her over his intentions and next moves, she feels only…excitement instead. That hand, while daring, is reserved. His intentions fairly clear since she had plainly set the boundaries for them that night in the basement. He won’t be making the moves. _She_ will. And somehow she’s convinced that he isn’t motivated to go breaking that trust anytime soon. It does leave her in a rather difficult position, however. The temptation is strong to encourage that hand, to shift herself closer…all while not teasing him mercilessly.

“And sometimes _overly_ obvious.” Kim pulls her hands away, dabbing her finger into the petroleum jelly that is then brought to cover the small wound on the bridge of his nose.

“Is that a _complaint_ , Kimberly?”

“An observation.” Finally she finishes, observing his features before allowing herself a cheeky grin at him. He looks absolutely hypnotized in that moment, a look that sees her flushing under his gaze. “Stop looking at me like that.”

But her words are quickly contradicted by her own hand that slides over the one on her thigh, tracing the length of his arm with gentle fingers and finally landing upon his forearm.

“And how _would_ you like me to look at you?”

She cracks a flustered smile, turning to look away from him while she tries to hide it, breathing out his name in hopes to bring the both of them back down from whatever cloud they’re sitting on, “Monty…”

But she isn’t free from his attention just yet, as his hand moves up to carefully cup her chin, guiding her focus back to him. And just when she thinks she may have to put her foot down and _quickly_ , he lets her go. Not without a sly grin pulling at his lips, of course.

“I expect a _rematch_. And perhaps next time you’ll be so kind as to not try and bust my face open.” He rises then, taking hold of the bloodied towel and now empty bottle. Kim raises her brows at him, scoffing before she follows his lead.

“I’ll keep it in mind– it ** _is_** the only thing you’ve got going for you…”

Monty barks out a laugh at that, delighted by the _delicious_ tease thrown his way. “Still more than anything _you’ve_ got to offer.”

There’s a shove at his back for that one, the two exchanging a playful look before battling their way up the steps.

**Cake**

A day off.

A morning spent lounging in bed longer than he’s been able to. Any other day and he’d have been thrilled at the very idea, but today is no ordinary day:

It’s his birthday. April 25th.

And while he hasn’t bought it up, nor has it been mentioned to him, there is a very real fear that the family will know. It is, of course, plastered all over the internet. There’s no hiding it, really. But he’s been more than clear on how he feels about…celebrations. He somewhat trusts that Kim is well aware of his disinterest in celebrating the annual event, and has communicated that if necessary to the rest of them. But there’s no knowing for sure, not until he’s finally risen from his sleep-in. Heading upstairs after a long shower and to his surprise…an empty house.

It ** _is_** a Saturday. Surely all of them have found their own plans, and he supposes he doesn’t totally hate the idea of some further solitude. Going into the kitchen he immediately freezes, whipping around to the sudden presence felt behind him. Ease is quickly brought when his eyes land on the grandmother who stands in the frame, offering him a gentle smile.

“Put these on.” Gloves are tossed at him, and the man catches them with a skeptical look in his eyes.

“What? _Why?_ ”

“Because we have places to be and you can’t go out with… _those_.” She makes a face, seeing him quietly seethe.

Still he slides them on without much question, following the woman to the door, pausing as he begins to start piecing things together.

“Wait– where _are_ we going? I can’t…go out into _public._ And looking like ** _this?_** ” He can’t remember the last time he’s walked into…civilization. And he’s not about to go doing so just for _fun_.

“I know. Which is precisely _why_ you’re doing so. You look awful.” Monty growls at that, “You owe your hosts at least an appearance that isn’t so…”

“Okay, okay, I _get_ it. Save the insults.” Monty walks past her and opens the door for both of them. He does chance at playing stupid, however, as he is far too suspicious of this sudden idea. “What _exactly_ am I meant to be preparing for?”

“When was the last weekend you remember everyone being home at the same time? It just so happens that the planets have aligned today and that gives James the excuse to do what men love most: fire up the grill and spend time with his family.”

“ _American_ men, obviously.” Monty makes a face, even if he has grown to appreciate the man who’s allowed him residence in his home. “And that has… _what_ , to do with me?”

“Oh, _stop_. These people have done more than enough for you, haven’t they? Is it so hard to at _least_ show up ** _looking_** like you care a little?”

“They _know_ I care. I…think.” She does bring up a good point, as this would be a good opportunity to somewhat show the respect he knows he has for them.

“Well then, prove it.” The grandmother hands over the keys to her car then, earning a look of disgust from the man.

“Have you forgotten that I’m a criminal wanted in more countries than you can count on your **_hands?_** ”

“Criminal or not, you’ve still got a license– haven’t you? That automatically counts _me_ out.” The keys are tossed to him then before she heads towards the car. Monty rolls his eyes and follows, wondering whether or not it’s a smart move to leave the house without at least informing Kim or her parents. But he decides to trust in her grandmother and follows the directions given to him.

Their first stop immediately sees him groaning.

“I can cut my _own_ hair just fine.”

“Just because you _can_ doesn’t mean you do a good job. Come on now, it’s time to take back control over that mane of yours.”

He sits with crossed arms in the chair, glaring hard at the grandmother who stares delightfully at him through the mirror. He feels like a child, being dragged around with a parent who doesn’t trust them being alone. And despite that comparison, he does quietly enjoy a professional taking on the black locks that have remained untouched since being with Kim’s family. As the hair falls onto his lap and the floor, he finds that a familiar face is coming back to him. They even go so far as to properly shave him, a straight edge blade delicate and precise as it slides over his neck and jaw.

“Ah, see? That wasn’t so bad. And look how _handsome_ …” She takes his arm and leads him out of the barber shop, seeing him sneer at the compliment.

“Yes. _Great_. Now are you done having your fun?” The woman chuckles and shakes her head.

“Done? We’ve only just _started_ …I mean, just because you currently live in a basement doesn’t mean you have to ** _dress_** like it.” That pulls from him an offended look.

“It’s not like I have much of a **_choice_** –.”

“Come. I know a man like you knows a _little_ of fashion, hm? Shall we put that to the test?”

This part he doesn’t quite mind. Wearing sweatpants and baggy clothes was something he had grown accustom to. Something he simply…needed to _deal_ with. But as he tries on different fits and suits, staring into the mirror at the tailors, he is quickly reminded of just how… _right_ it feels. He’s not sure if it helps or not that the woman only has compliments to give with everything he tries on, leaving him quietly flustered and just as well a little indecisive.

Well, until he’s reminded that he couldn’t care less for these spring colors pushed onto him, finding himself far more pleased with the tapered black trousers and thick white collared shirt. A mandarin collared long black jacket is what makes the difference. Makes it more…him.

“Will this do?” She’s already moving towards him at the question, stepping up onto the platform and moving her hands towards his collar.

“Not just yet. You are a _lord_ , if you remember, and a lord needs a little…something to make his statement, yes?” Monty can’t help but smirk at that, watching the mirror as she steps away and seeing the gold chain that connects each flap of his collar.

Oh yes. This is certainly more like it.

The man in the mirror is exactly who he remembers. Even if his insides may just be a little…different now.

“You don’t think this is a bit… _much?_ I doubt it is meant to be some _black tie_ affair.”

“I’m happy to take you to a department store so you can find whatever _suburbia-dad_ look you think they’re expecting.”

Monty presses his lips and wrinkles his nose at the very thought.

“No, thanks.”

The two leave the store, Monty keeping his new suit on and pulling off the last tag from his coat before following Kim’s grandmother into the ice cream parlor next door. Both sitting on the bench outside of it while tending to the small treats she had bought them.

“This isn’t really the day off I was expecting.” He finally says while taking in another spoonful of mint ice cream. The afternoon has breezed by, and while he didn’t intend on doing much of anything else…he can’t say he’s not pleased by all that has happened. “I’ll pay you back, you know.”

He makes sure to throw that last bit in, as he refuses to allow anymore kindness from the family when he is very much able to financially care for himself. But it does see her look up from the treat, a look of confusion displayed to him.

“Hm? How so? I haven’t spent a _dime_.”

Monty furrows his brows then, throwing an equally confused look in her direction.

“And who exactly ** _has,_** then?”

“ _You_ , of course. I mean _really_ , Monty. You think they haven’t been holding onto your wallet since the moment you got here? What…did you think it had just _disappeared_ into that waterfall?”

That…silences him. He’s completely shocked by that information. The whole time…he had access to his whole _life_ …his **_money_** …and yet her family insisted on doing everything for him. Why had he ever thought that it was simply because they _had_ to? His appetite is somewhat lost at that. Guilt surfacing and beginning to dominate everything else. Just when he thinks they couldn’t have treated him more than he ever deserved…they manage to top it.

There are no words. He owes them so much. Nothing money could ever repay.

“Now, if you’re quite finished picking your jaw up off the ground, we have one more stop.” She leads him back to the car, the man still very much distraught over what he’s just learned. But a quick drive to the destination eases him somewhat. It’s nice to know that his day out wasn’t at the expense of anyone else, and that must count for something…right?

The last stop just might be his _favorite_. A liquor store.

“We _can’t_ show up without some sparkling wine. I figure now that mister **_money bags_** knows what I’ve got access to, he might just…splurge a little for the family who’s been oh so kind to him.”

Monty rolls his eyes at that, skimming the selection before him.

“I don’t need you to tell me what I was already planning to _do_.” The man replies over his shoulder, grabbing for a bottle he personally favors whilst considering what they have purchased in the passed.

Finally they are on their way home and just as the sun beings to take its dip in the sky. As he parks in the driveway, he waits a moment and rests his head against the seat while taking in a breath.

“That was rather… _nice_. Actually.”

The grandmother chuckles.

“I can tell that was _painful_ for you to say.” Her hand finds his arm, squeezing it gently. “You look every bit the lord _and_ the warrior. Now I do hope you don’t mind attention, because I don’t doubt you’re about to get a lot of it.”

He grins at that and shakes his head. Thinking back to that very morning where he’d have done everything not have any attention on a day a dreaded.

“I don’t exactly blend into a crowd.” He reminds her as they walk towards the front door, Monty carrying in the bottle. “Attention is nothing new to me.”

And it certainly finds him.

The moment he steps foot into the kitchen, Anne’s hands find his face, excitedly admiring his ‘cleaned up’ appearance. He fails to fight the red that tinges his cheeks, quickly trying to alleviate the moment by showing her the bottle he’s brought and offering to open it. The twins are next, but their approach is certainly more welcome. Telling him that the gloves are covering the best part. He agrees, taking them off and placing them on the counter before his eyes peer out to the deck. He spots James at the grill, speaking to Kim who sits on the table in conversation with him– back turned.

As if he’d give up the chance to go to her while she is unsuspecting. And so he moves through the living room, finding himself sucking in a breath before sliding the glass door open and stepping out onto the deck. It gets both of their attention, and while his eyes shift to see Kimberly, he is immediately bombarded by James who is far more delighted at the sight of him than Anne was. He’s pulled into a hug that he is in no way prepared for, his arms trapped as he endures it. Kim attempts to hide her amusement at that while Monty listens to James and his own compliments which shift into light conversation over his day out with his mother. The topic of the win purchased sees James snapping his fingers as if remembering something.

“I’ve got something stronger, if you’re interested.”

“By all means.” Monty smirks at him, stepping aside to let him go fetch whatever it is that is being offered. Executed perfectly as it leaves him with his intended target.

“You _told_ them.” His accusation comes quick and not without a grin. He knows what this all is. It’s not about showing respect, or getting compliments, or anything else for that matter.

It’s his birthday. And they all know it.

Kim looks away from him then, feigning a look of confusion. “Hm? What could you _possibly_ mean?”

Monty’s grin grows wider, walking over to join her at the table but instead taking to the seat where her legs dangle. She wears a dress fit for spring and as ever, looks perfect within it.

“Don’t play naive, Kimberly. This has _you_ written all over it.”

“Okay, yes, I _did_ tell them, but would it surprise you if I said that the only part I played was making sure you’d have a drink in your hand at the end of the day?” Her eyes unapologetically gloss over him then, her hand gesturing to his form. “All of _this?_ I can’t take the credit for. You _do_ look handsome…but you also have all the days before this.”

Monty scoffs. He should have expected that. If this whole day was for anything, it was for her. Yet here she is, claiming that whether it happened or not…the attraction would still be there.

“It would have been nice to hear that **_before_** your grandmother dragged me around town to play _dress up_.” His hand, out of sight from the family inside, slides over her leg and down to her ankle where fingers sit and gently massage the joint.

“Oh? And you’re going to act like you _didn’t_ enjoy it?”

“Well, I _did_ …but I’d have chosen your compliment over the rest of it.” That rewards him a smile soon turned into a bite of her lip. Her hand reaches out then to smooth down the front of his jacket, careful not to linger too long for fear of prying eyes.

“I _did_ get you something.”

His amusement falters and he can’t help the dramatic sigh of annoyance at that admission. Hand falling from her ankle and instead being brought to hold his temples.

“I remember telling you I _don’t_ accept gifts.”

“And I _know_ that…but this one will be the exception, I think. I can’t give it to you now but…later. When you’re finished waltzing around as _Lord_ of the house.”

Monty is eager for ‘later’, even if he does despise gifts. To his surprise the family who knows what the day is keeps their word and doesn’t bring it up. James, him, and the grandmother all share a whiskey before enjoying the food prepared for all of them. But by the end of it all he is pleased to shed out of the suit and into something comfortable. Even more pleased when he heads back up to the kitchen later in the evening for a promised cup of tea and his gift.

Tea _is_ what he expects to be waiting for him, but the small plate sitting in front of Kim is a surprise. A single slice of chocolate cake. The sight of it all delights him, and so he joins her at the table

“I see you got it right this time.” Monty grins, running his tongue over his bottom lip as he pulls the plate over to him.

Kim snickers, swatting him in the shoulder before handing him over a fork. “Yes, Monty, because it was _clearly_ my mistake the last time _.”_

“And here you are, learning from it. Impressive, Miss. Possible.” He knows just how infuriating he’s being in that moment, and the smile flashed at her is one he knows she’s eager to wipe from his face. But all she manages is a shake of her head and a crooked smile.

He takes a bite and hums– satisfied by the rich taste greeting him.

“See? An _acceptable_ gift.” She sounds proud of herself, and he supposes that she should be. It’s one of the better birthdays he’s had, but he’ll not reward her with such words.

“And a shareable one, at that.” He cuts a piece off with his fork, and turns to offer it to her. Met with raised brows and a look of uncertainty.

“Since when does Monkey Fist **_share?_** ”

“Open…”

Kim laughs, catching the wrist that moves in her direction. She goes to take the fork with her free one, but the moment she tries his hand captures it and keeps it hostage beneath the table.

“I can do it myself.” She’s grinning all the while, knowing that she is fighting a losing battle.

“Kimberly. _Open_.”

She hesitates before finally letting go of his wrist, letting that fork come closer before she takes the spongey heaven that makes its way into her mouth. Making the mistake of looking to him as lips slide from the metal tines. There’s no mistaking the look in his eyes, one of hunger and… _desire_.

In the pit of her stomach she feels a similar burn.

Oh what she wouldn’t _give_ to forget all else and submit to the calling inside of her. Just as she knows he is wishing for the same. It feels electric in that moment, and if it were not for him bringing her back to Earth with another hum after he’s taken to another bite…she would have answered it. The hand keeping hers beneath the table has moved them into his lap.

Kim shifts closer to him then, enjoying the warmth of his hand and watching him devour his treat. He’s trying. _Truly_ trying. Just as she had asked…just as she _hoped_ he would. It’s not enough, and it hurts to remind herself of that, but he is so close. She wonders if he knows that. If he knows just how far he’s come from vicious words and violent hands.

Her fingers quietly squeeze his own, his response quick as his hold tightens around her. There’s so much she wishes she could say in that moment, feeling completely at ease by his side. She decides on the only words that would allow them to just enjoy the moment.

“Happy Birthday.”


	13. Torn

“How long have you had him at this?”

Kim sees the figure coming closer, at an impressive speed but one that is noticeably labored. The man had just swam the length of the lake for what she only assumes is the umpteenth time. That assumption is further supported when wet hands clutch at the dock, a heavy and pained inhale taken by the drenched man-monkey who pants heavy after freeing himself from the prisons of ice cold water.

“Oh, not long. Enough to safely get that leg back into shape- eh, Monty?” The man loses all manners, spitting the lake water from his mouth as he pushes himself onto the dock. His black hair blinding him before he whips it back with a growl.

The grandmother grins at that ungentlemanly response, seeing Kim hide her smirk just as well. The man finds his footing then, standing in shorts that cling to aching legs. As much as he loves the cold, his limbs are now numb and stiff- leaving him trembling and dripping. Not even the warmth that May’s morning sun brings can help what the winter had done to the water. Kim hands him a towel then, watching as he works to dry himself off.

It’s still early yet, and while she does have school to get to, she’s keen on getting some words in with the man who’s time with her is constantly butchered by conflicting schedules. And with what has more recently been plaguing her mind, he offers decent distraction. The plague being that of Ron, who as of late put noticeable distance between them. Not that she can blame him considering what he doesn’t know.

“I suppose you’ve earned a break. Go get some food, we’ll resume in an hour.” Monty lets out a breath at that, clearly grateful for the affordance. Her grandmother walks away, leaving Kim grinning and walking over to the dry clothes folded nearby.

“I think she’s trying to kill me.” Monty lets out, following her to trade the now wet towel for his clothes.

“You think she’d fail if that were the case?” Kim challenges, turning away so that the man has some decency changing.

“Perhaps not.” The man is smart, knowing that despite not having seen the woman in action he’s well aware of what she’s capable of. The very thought amuses Kim. And so he changes quickly, walking over to her and taking the towel back- a wordless gesture telling her that it is safe to view him.

“I do get the feeling she never put _you_ through such grueling tasks.” Monty points out with plastic envy, leaving Kim smirking and quietly enjoying the dramatic complaints of his well deserved suffering.

“Not quite. But I _am_ her granddaughter... and you’re the guy who who has put my life in danger... more than _once_. So uh... that may just play a tiny role in our drastically different regimens.”

Monty makes a face, one that sees her smile widen just a little. He knows she’s right, and the fact that he doesn’t fight her on it does please her a little. They pass the dojo then and reach the stairs where the man stops, letting out a groan as he stares up at them.

Kim hooks her hand on the inside of his forearm, giving him an encouraging stroke of fingers while leaning into his side.

“Come on. A few steps is nothing _Monkey Fist_ can’t handle.” She urges him gently, before letting her fingers slide from his arm and walking up the steps herself. A quick look over her shoulder as she nears the top confirms that he is right behind her, motivated to stay close as they approach the house.

Her mother, who had already left, set up breakfast for them on the porch where the twins and her Nana wait. Monty heads straight for the cooler, chugging down a full bottle of water without any grace before taking his seat beside Kim. They eat in relative silence, Kim picking at her food and far more interested in her phone. Ron should have been up by now and after attempting to reach out to him both that morning and the night before she’s disappointed to see no response.

It was clear that he was avoiding her. Not answering calls or messages. Not even speaking to her more than a few words while at school. She chews on her lip, knowing that she can’t give up so easily. And so she excuses herself before heading inside, taking her plate with her and attempting to call him again in the kitchen. Kim tries twice before ultimately giving up, placing her phone down and leaning over the counter to pick at her food.

She should have sensed the chill creeping over her shoulders before his voice is heard behind her.

“Something’s wrong.”

Kim’s eyes widen a bit, quick to turn her head and shake it. Denial at the forefront and ready for battle. It’s her own fault, she thinks. Monty– both curious and perceptive, was always going to pick up on the issue no matter what she did to hide it from him.

“Hm? No. Nothing’s wrong.” And even if she sounds believable, Monty is seeing right through it. His own eyes narrow, knowing now that Kim is flat out lying to him.

“Kimberly.” The man warns, leaning forward into her space with an attention that can’t be easily ignored. “Tell me.”

Gone is the gentle air between them that manifested at the lake. Monty’s focus on her is no cause for alarm, but she knows such a topic can’t exactly be had with the man. He had been doing so well– why risk all of it now?

She leans back, watching him cautiously and knowing that no matter how this plays out…it won’t be good. And so without giving up so quickly she attempts again to find a way out of it.

“I’m _fine_ Monty, stop prying.” She slides a hand over his wrist for extra measure, squeezing it to reassure him. Not that it does anything as she walks over to dispose the contents of her plate to then turn around and find the man is still staring at her. _Completely_ unconvinced.

“You’re _lying_. Why?”

Kim drops her shoulders then, defeat coming close but alas…she figures she might as well be honest before she goes dropping any bombshells she know will rattle him. Perhaps context might see him back off, but knowing the man it also risks furthering his interest in everything going on.

“Because it’s about _Ron_. And I know how you get at the very mention of him.” She’s proved right immediately, seeing his face about to fall into something sour before she calls him out on it. Kim gives him a knowing look before leaving the kitchen. Her target is the stairs, but before she can get a foot up on the first step the man blocks her way, planting his hand on the railing to make sure there’s not an easy way passed him.

Kim folds her arms and stares up at him.

“You can tell me. I’ll listen.”

“Oh I don’t doubt that. You’ll listen and collect what you can to add to that _arsenal_ of yours.” Kim steps up and slips by him then, no matter how difficult his frame makes it, and heads up the steps. To no real surprise, Monty follows.

“I won’t.”

“Monty, I’m okay with accepting that you’re never going to change your mind about him.” She steps into her room then, and finds herself about to walk straight into his chest once again.

“I’m not trying to change my mind about him. My concern is for _you_ alone.” His hand reaches up to drag his knuckles over the shape of her cheek. She flushes slightly at the touch, placing her hand on his stomach before sighing and pulling away from him. He seems all too eager to hear this out, and she can’t help but feel the fool for thinking it’s coming from a genuine place and not one of ill intent.

Still, he’s there now. In her room and with no intention of leaving without answers. Worst case scenario is that she’d simply be _right._

“He hasn’t really been speaking to me…after I told him you were staying.” She waits for a quip, something cruel to be thrown her way. It doesn’t come…yet. It concerns her only a little, but she takes to her closet, finding her cheer uniform to pack away into her bag. “And…I think he knows something is up. I’ve obviously been…distracted.”

She walks back out, seeing Monty now stretched out comfortably on top of her bed. Arms tucked behind his head and knee propped up as he listens. The sight does bring a grin to her lips, one she tries to hide at his response.

“Distracted? By _what?_ ” He smirks at her with lips still stained with sarcasm, and that earns him a tongue in cheek and shake of her head. She turns to place the uniform on her desk chair near her book bag before moving to the mirror.

“By _who_.” She corrects, glancing over at him while she folds the uniform neatly and fits it into her bag.

“ _His_ loss, I suppose.”

“Uh, _my_ loss. He’s been my best friend since pre school. I’m not exactly willing or wanting to give that up.”

“Right. Should have known you’d want to… _rectify_ it.” Ah, _there_ it is. “And how exactly do you suppose you’ll be doing _that?_ ”

She looks to him then, a sly smirk gracing her lips, “Perhaps getting rid of the root could be a start.”

Monty scoffs at what could be considered an idle threat.

“If you’re suggesting ** _I_** am the so called ‘root’ then you’ve not fully considered the full situation.” Kim straightens up and narrows her eyes at the man before turning to finish her morning routine in the mirror. 

“He’s not happy that you’re here. Never **_wanted_** you to be in the first place. Tell me how that isn’t the issue?” She takes a cotton pad to her face then, cleansing her skin gently to prep for the cream she circles into it.

“Why don’t you tell _me_ , Kimberly…what exactly did happen on Valentine’s day, hm?” She can feel herself go rigid at that question, not wanting to have ever brought it up to him.

“That’s irrelevant.”

“He kissed you, didn’t he? You don’t have to be afraid to say it. It’s safe to say he waited far longer than ** _I_** have.”

Kim turns to him then with a sudden guilt welling in her chest. She’s torn in knowing that he means well to an extent, but the reminder of what he’s waiting for is dangled over her head in that moment and it’s hard to ignore.

“Monty, please…”

“I’m not picking a fight. I’m making a point. The boy has been in love with you for **_years_**. I’m assuming that is the first time he’s asked you on a date…or if it wasn’t, he made sure to do it on a holiday that one can’t easily misconstrue as something else. So, it would be the first **_you_** ever saw it as a date…yes?”

“Not seeing your point yet.”

“He kissed you.”

She really wishes he would stop saying that word.

“ _Yes._ ”

“And what did you do? Whatever…came from that? Because obviously things didn’t…progress. Unless I don’t know something _you_ do.”

Kim sighs, finishing up the application of skincare to her face before packing it away.

“I told him later that I wasn’t ready to take things further. That I wanted to stay where we were at for now. Friends.”

“So, he kissed you, you told him you didn’t want any more than that, but suggested it may be different in the future…you understand that as a man, the equation is fairly simple… yes?”

She cringes at the words that immediately pops into her head: rejection, friend zone, leading on. And perhaps because the very man who says it is in some way dealing with some of this things…and from her, no less, Kim can’t help but wonder…is that who she is? Is that who they both see her as? The girl who simply…rejects? Is impossible to achieve?

“I imagine that he thinks his one chance has screwed it all up. Not that it’s any skin off _my_ teeth.”

“Is that Monkey Fist relating to **_the_** Ron Stoppable?” Kim looks over her shoulder at him, seeing the face he makes in response. One of utter disgust and annoyance at the comparison.

“I’m trying to _help_ you.”

“You said you would just _listen_.”

“Well, that’s **_your_** fault, really. You know I like to talk.”

Kim rolls her eyes and goes over to the bed, sitting on its edge and turning to look at him. It amuses her the comfort and ease he’s finding in such an intimate place. Of course, she does wish he hadn’t just come from the lake as that will surely be the scent of what she inhales that night.

“Okay then, Dr. Fiske. What’s your prognosis?”

“Simple. Let it simmer out and ** _forget_** him.” She knows that a part of him is simply teasing, but there is a heavy truth to those words which sees her scoff and turn her back to him with folded arms. She lets her silence speak for her, knowing that the grumble of his voice isn’t too far behind.

“Oh… _come now_.” She can feel him shift behind her, a warm hand gently swiping her hair over her shoulder, warm fingers cupping the exposed skin of her neck.

“If you want it all… _worked out_ , you need to be honest with him. And only _you_ can know what that means.”

“And you _don’t?_ ” She turns to look at him, seeing just how close he is now by the color of his irises now more prevalent. It doesn’t worry her, despite the setting they’re currently in.

“If I _did_ , I’d not behave as well as I am right now.”

Kim feels herself blush, both at the insinuation and the realization that she may not be totally fair to both parties. Monty is right. She needs to talk to Ron, to be honest with him…but what could she say that wouldn’t completely sabotage her growth with the man? If she tells Ron of her feelings towards the criminal who’d spent months stealing her heart, she’d be giving him the green light. Declaring him an important pillar in her life.

And if she doesn’t…if she continues to keep it hidden or attempts to even lie, she will surely pry the wedge further between them…perhaps between her and Monty as well.

Neither of those outcomes is what she wants or is prepared for just yet. Even if her attachment to Monty is undeniably stronger. Her resilience wavers constantly in his presence… even she is impressed at her own determination not to immediately give in at every opportunity. In that moment just as well, how easy it would be just to turn into that warm hand? To untie him from the very bounds in which he’s needed to conjure so that he could play by her rules.

Her silence is telling, and for Monty a response is unnecessary. It’s sometimes terrifying just how perceptive he can be and how well he can understand her.

“Mmm, I think I hear your grandmother seething at how long it’s been since last torturing me.” He removes his hand and moves off of the bed, heading towards the door, “There’s your silver lining: by the time she’s through with me you may just be lucky enough to have one problem figured out.”

She knows that he means that as a joke, and his grin assures her of that, but before he can go too far her hand reaches out for his own. It doesn’t take much to draw him back, as his hand eagerly accepts hers and his feet carry him willingly to stand over her.

“You’re _not_ a problem. Not one I _mind_ , anyway.” His lips twist into a smirk at that, “I’ll talk to him. See if your advice solves for anything.”

“Very well. Don’t go _blaming_ me if it doesn’t.”

“ _If_ you’re still alive, as you say.” She grins up at him, watching the delight in his eyes as he is once again matched by worthy wit.

“Cheeky girl.” His hand pulls from hers but only to emphasize his statement with a pinch of fingers administered to her chin. She’s too late to swat the hand away, chuckling as he succeeds before turning and leaving her.

Being that it is a Friday, there’s no completely avoiding her. They have a game to show up for that night, and while there’s no obligation for anything afterwards she won’t just allow him to walk away without finally addressing the tension between them.

Monty’s ‘advice’ isn’t farfetched, and is impressively generous considering his feelings on Ron, but following through on it will be the hardest part. How does she keep them both? And both…happy?

As expected, Ron’s presence is cold and withdrawn once she arrives at school. She pulls back her pressure in preparation for that very night. There’s no point in addressing it in the little time they get to themselves between classes. But against her own luck, the day drags. It surely doesn’t help that she’ll be spending the rest of her day on campus ground, away from Monty who is on her mind more often than she’d like to admit. The image of him laying on her bed is utterly cruel. She wonders just what he was thinking while making himself at home upon it, which then leads her to wonder what it is like upon his own.

Never has she taken to the scent of eucalyptus and peppermint until she learned what it was wafting from his skin. Between close combat and simply sharing a space together, her body noticeably reacted to it. She somewhat hopes those very scents linger in her bed that night, but knows that it would be far more pleasing coming from his own sheets that are so very stitched with him.

_Pull it together, Kim._

The academic day finally ends, and she’s grateful for the game’s prep that allows her to focus on form and routine as well as catch up with teammates. While their team doesn’t win, she feels good about her own performance that was thankfully unhindered by thoughts of what is to come. She hunts down Ron rather quickly, knowing he’d take the opportunity to escape before Kim could get to him. He’s almost successful too, but Kim catches up to him just as he exits the gym with duffle bag in hand.

“Hey! Let me drive you home.” She doesn’t make it an option as she walks beside him, seeing the excuse ready on his face before it comes out.

“No, that’s okay Kim, I can walk.” He doesn’t look at her which has her thinking back to what Monty had said. About turning him down after he had made his move. Something he waited for, longer than she’d ever know. But Kim won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and so she pulls one out of Monty’s book and steps in front of him bringing them both to a halt.

“Ron. Please? I can’t go much longer with you avoiding me. Come on. Let’s go somewhere…anywhere. Just you and me…and let’s _talk_.” She braces her hands on his shoulders, hoping the gentle plea on her face helps her case in convincing him.

Luckily enough, it does.

Kim drives them to the park in town, one she’d last been to with Monty and her brothers. They even pass by the table the two had sat on where fingers had interlocked and soft words were exchanged. Her heart skips a beat at the memory, but she tears herself from it. It’s not the time. And while they did some catching up in the car, they had yet to breach the subject both had been tiptoeing around.

So finally, when silence falls upon them, Kim sucks in her breath and stops on the path they had been walking.

“Ron, what happened between us?” She sighs, wanting to make sure she gets her thoughts out clear and concise. “It felt like…as soon as I told you _he_ was staying you completely cut me off.”

Ron’s brows furrow at the mention of the man but only for a moment before he looks away and takes his own deep breath.

“We agreed we would turn him in the moment he was able to fend for himself.” Ron points out, looking back at her. “Don’t get me wrong Kim, this whole thing with him is so far from being okay– but I can’t just ignore the fact that…you don’t _listen_ to me.”

Kim is taken back by that. Her brows raise slightly, and while she’s eager to defend herself she bites her tongue and lets him finish.

“I told you not to bring him into your house. I told you that he’s just using you and your family– and it _worked_. Now he’s willingly living with you and he’s got nothing stopping him from getting payback for all the times that we’ve ruined his plans.”

Not this again. It’s unavoidable, sure, but how does she even begin to make him understand just how insulting it is to think that he’s _duped_ all of them?

“Ron, I don’t know how to explain it to you where you’d even consider understanding…but he isn’t the same person we once knew. I mean, you love to say that my family is too ‘pure hearted’ for a man like him, but have you ever considered what kind of effect that sort of company might have on someone who _hasn’t_ experienced it?” She knows she’s playing a dangerous game, attempting to convince Ron that the man isn’t as evil as they had made him out to be. And to Ron, he’s never seen a side of him that _isn’t_ that.

“Maybe that’s what I just don’t get, Kim. You’re so easy to forgive him for almost _killing_ us. **_Me._** I’m sorry if I can’t do the same. I just feel like…you’ve gone to such lengths to defend him, and all I can think about is how you can possibly come back from the inevitable betrayal that he’s got up his sleeves. I was right when we first met him, and I _know_ I’m right now.”

The suggestion that Monty has stuck around for this ‘master plan’ is almost laughable. But the betrayal does ring true, considering he had already exercised that briefly just over a month ago. He is in no way reformed or perfect, but the man is trying. Of course to explain that she’d then need to explain what goal he was trying _for_ and that, she’s decided, won’t fly with him just yet.

“Ron, let me worry about that, okay? And to be clear, _no one_ has forgiven him.”

“TT, yeah, you just let him eat dinner with you, and spend time with your brothers, and train with your grandma– you know she never even offered to train _me!_ ”

“Ron.” She draws back his focus, her arms coming to settle across her chest. “You act like I have the final say in any of those things. Whether either of us like it or not, a lot of those decisions are beyond us. That leaves just you and I…right here…on a level we’ve always known. So can you tell me… _honestly_ …is this all really just about Monkey Fist?” She can’t believe how strange it is to say that name now, as it is mostly used as a tool to either tease the man or appease him. In the same breath, she knows it gives him confidence and just as well pesters him.

Ron diverts his gaze at that question, clearly uncomfortable with the direction that it’s so obviously heading.

“I thought maybe…it might have to do with that talk we had. After…Valentine’s day."

“Kim…it’s not that. I…can accept that you don’t like me that way. You’re my best friend. Nothing will change that. But something _has_ changed, hasn’t it? I mean…you don’t hear me out, but sometimes you’re just not even there to _hear_ me at all. Whether it’s a mission or spring break or even lunch…you just seem so far away, no matter how close you are.” Ron’s eyes look to her then, clearly confused and hurt…all because of _her_.

And she knows he isn’t wrong. She knows there’s no denying it. She’s distracted…focused on the very man who has kept her attention for months. That distraction now putting her relationship with her best friend on the line. It’s terrifying to see it now as it truly is. In some ways it feels like there is a choice to make between the two of them, but she knows in her heart that it is all far more complex than that.

“You’re right.” She admits softly, her hand holding onto her arm as she lowers her gaze and reflects upon the very moments he speaks of. “I haven’t…been all there. Especially for you.”

“What aren’t you telling me, Kim? I mean…something’s gotta be going on, right? You know you can tell me anything.” She feels a warm hand on her shoulder, comforting and supportive. But those words, as kind and genuine as they are, can’t be the truth. She knows that if she tells him…she will sever the tie between them. She will ruin everything.

“It’s…complicated, Ron. I…I _want_ to tell you. I _will_ tell you. But now is just…not the right time.” The hand is pulled away from her then, and she knows in that moment that Monty was right. The truth needs to come out if all of this is to be resolved.

“When will be?”

“I don’t know.” She answers honestly, knowing that it depends solely on the very man in her home. It depends on when she feels she can safely say whether or not he is worth the risk. And she is so close to making the jump…but fear, as ever, holds her back. “But I promise, Ron, I **_will_** tell you. And I know that might not seem like much right now, but it’s all I can give.”

Ron isn’t incredibly pleased with the answer, but he does seem a little more eased. Perhaps because his intuition was correct, that there was something going on that he didn’t know about. But being right and not knowing the details of it leaves him right on the fence.

“Yeah. I get it, KP. Just know I’ll be here and ready, whenever you are.” He truly does remind her just why they are best friends. And without thinking twice, she moves in to hug him, grateful that he would still give her the time even if things weren’t all ironed out.

While there is some hope that comes from their conversation, she knows all too well that it is far from over. There’s a pressure felt now more than ever to finally make the hard decisions. Ones she had been avoiding for far longer than ever intended.

She can’t tell Ron a thing until she’s figured things out with Monty, and above all that is the scariest task at hand. The reminder of it is cruel as she walks into her house after dropping Ron off at home, climbing the steps and undressing out of her uniform. Her body hits the bed and there it is… _him_. Lake or not, the familiar scented notes are breathed into her, and she knows that if she so pleased she could find the source. She could head down into that basement and slip into his bed…into his arms.

She could make her choice right then and there.

And no matter how close she is to that very decision…something still holds her back. The part of her scared of the man who sat not far away and tried to convince her that the man she thinks she wants doesn’t exist.

———

Kim enjoys a morning spent in bed the next day, free from any obligations for the time being. Knowing Monty makes a habit of sleeping in on days off that align with her own, the dojo is currently at her disposal and so she seeks to use it. It feels good to work out the stress in her body no doubt caused by her mind. More so when she can push it to the limit and feel improvements in her form and fitness. She’s given a chance to focus only on herself, which to no surprise, isn’t something she gets to do very often. Of course, it doesn’t last as long as she’d like. Throwing concise strikes and practicing combinations on the heavy bag, she senses that she may no longer be alone. That gut feeling proves right when a voice sounds behind her.

“So, it went well?”

She throws one last punch before looking over her shoulder and seeing Monty step onto the platform, an infuriating grin plastered on his lips. He doesn’t move any closer however, and stands at good measure with arms folded.

“Given that you’re hitting the bag and not _me._ ”

Kim smirks, backing up from the very bag and turning her full attention to him. “It went…well _enough_. I think.”

Monty’s own amusement falters at that response, dropping his arms and making his way towards her. “That doesn’t sound very promising.”

Kim shrugs,“I told him what I needed to, and he accepted it…for the most part.”

“Ah. So you ** _lied_**.”

“I didn’t _lie_. I just…delayed the truth.” Monty laughs at that, stalking forward like a predator honed in on its prey. And when he finally stands before her, he shares a haunting grin.

“You can’t delay it _forever_.”

She gets the feeling he’s implying more than just her conversation with Ron. Knowing the man, he most likely _is_. But Kim is enjoying her morning, absent of any thoughts of current problems still left in limbo. So she won’t engage the conversation any further, and instead places a hand on the center of his chest.

“Are you ready for that rematch?”

The smile he gives her is the only answer she needs.

The two go at it for some time. Monty obviously fairing better now that his leg is stronger and his endurance is back to the level it should be. In fact, with everything her grandmother had been teaching him…he’d picked up some new moves that work in his favor. She could just as well say that he’d taken on a new spirit in the process. And while keeping up with him starts to prove difficult, there is no denying how much fun she has while doing it. She knows that he’s having just as much fun, but there’s also a focus there that she’s aware of. He wants to win, but she’ll make him work for it.

Kim does tire first, which gives the man the upper hand. He doesn’t show it, but he waits for his opening– one he knows is coming. She will slip up, and when she does …he’ll be ready. And just like that, he utilizes his foot to take her off balance, a quick hand snatching up her wrists in one strike. She’s on her back instantly, hands trapped beneath the one over her head, while that foot keeps her own pinned down. Monty presses his weight down into her wrists but ultimately keeps off of her. He’s got her trapped and winded.

“You _do_ look good on your back, Miss Possible.” Kim flushes deeply at those words, surprised but secretly pleased at just how bold they are. And that _grin_ he flashes her sees her further squirm at the insinuation. The man was playing dirty. And just as she feels his hand easing on the hold he has, a red blur flies right at him. His weight thrown right off of her.

“ ** _GET OFF OF HER!_** ” Kim looks up to see Ron standing over her now, horrified as she then looks to Monty who is getting to his feet with a growl. The look in his eyes is unmistakable, and while she doesn’t have the time to figure out just why Ron is suddenly there, she does get to her feet to face him.

“Ron– what are you doing? We were just sparring…he wasn’t going to _hurt_ me.”

It happens so quickly– _all_ of it. There’s no time to figure out why he’s there or what he may have just heard uttered from the man behind her, for there is rage in his eyes and she seeks to calm it.

“Kim are you serious? Do you even **_hear_** yourself?”

“Ron, you need to pull it together. It’s been _months!_ Everyone has learned to live with it _except_ you. Things change. People change. I thought we cleared this up last night.” But she sees now that their conversation must have been so small in comparison to the built up frustration Ron has accumulated. And now, here it is, being released.

“No Kim. **_He_** doesn’t change. I kept thinking about what you said. Finally it… _clicked_. All of this…everything that has changed between us…it all started because of him. Because you wanted to bring him here. Because for some reason he was too good in your books to be placed where he actually belongs. In prison. Or an asylum! _Anywhere_ he can’t be around people. Because he isn’t _people_. He’s a dangerous, wild animal who can’t be _domesticated_.”

She fears deeply for the man he speaks of; afraid to hear or see his response to such cruel words. Words that once she might agree with, but knowing what she does now…she couldn’t disagree more.

“Ron, please–.”

“No, Kim, it’s _your_ turn to listen to _me_. To _really_ hear me.” He steps to the side, pointing at Monty who looks like he’s using every bit of energy to contain his anger. “He tried to **_kill_** us. All that he’s done is so that he can be in power, because all he gets joy out of is ruling over others. Not even Drakken…or Duff…or any of the other crazies are ** _that_** kind of bad. Haven’t you learned by now? After everything he has put us through? This guy only has one weapon– and it’s his ability to manipulate and control people. The very thing he’s doing to you. _All_ of you. You don’t even see it…”

“Just the one?” Monty breaks his silence then, quickly approaching but Kim turns and shields Ron, staring up at the man who looks just about ready to put that challenge to the test. “I should feel sorry that the bandwidth of your mind is so laughably ** _small_** that you think you have any of who I am and what I’m capable of. You reek of _envy_ , Stoppable. Feeling _replaced?_ ”

Like a fire it burns out of control and is dangerously spontaneous. Kim finds herself between the both of them, so blindsided by it all that she can hardly think of who or what to extinguish first.

“Why don’t you just admit that you don’t give a damn about anyone here. No one but _yourself_. You’re just a rich, entitled, and lonely maniac, who is only enjoyable to _monkeys_.”

Hands shoot out faster than Kim can respond to. Ron is drawn up off of his feet by a terrifying strength, and while he clings on to his wrists and dangles in the air…he doesn’t appear as frightened as Kim does in that moment.

“I don’t understand what she sees in you. Loud, obnoxious, and _unbecoming_. You know, I think I finally found the one thing we have in common, **_Ronald_**. We _both_ don’t deal with ** _rejection_** very well.”

Ron’s eyes go wide at that, shifting over to Kim who looks completely hopeless in that moment. Kim, who sees Monty wielding a weapon she may have provided him…just as Ron is doing.

“Oh yes, I know _all_ about it. Is this the final attempt then? To ** _win_** the girl? To fight the dragon and save the princess?” Monkey Fist throws him then, across the dojo where he slides against his shoulders.

Kim finally moves, stopping the man from moving any further with two strong hands at his chest. “Monty, what are you _doing?!_ ”

“ _‘Monty’?_ ” Ron rises then, rolling up his sleeves and making it clear to both of them just what his intent is. “You’ve brainwashed my best friend. Took advantage of her family. You don’t deserve _any_ of them– and the moment you’re back out of their lives they will finally see that.”

For a moment she thinks that her hands upon him have grounded him, just as they have in the past. But Ron throws words so sharp and direct that they are unavoidable.

And so Monty moves again, pushing past those hands. “Shut ** _up_**.” Kim tries to stop him still, latching on to his arm and trying to pull him back with no avail.

“What, don’t like the truth? That everyone here would be better off without you? Did you really think you of all people could just… _insert_ yourself into this family? That they all actually… _care_ about you? As if you’re one of them? Yeah, I think I get it now, and you know what…maybe I _am_ wrong.”

_Oh god Ron, please…_ **_please_ ** _just stop._

“Maybe you _have_ changed. And maybe you know that no matter what you do, or who you think you’ve become, it will never be enough. That despite _their_ emotional ‘ ** _bandwidth_** ’, all they’ll continue to see is the mutant criminal who dodged proper punishment. Because no matter what you change at the surface, deep down all you’ll ever be is a selfish, isolated, freak of nature who can’t ever be ** _loved._** ”

Ron finds the opening and shoves the knife in swift and true. Neither her or Monty expect it, which sees them both in shock. Monty more so, who stands there with pause. The words hit a target and she can’t help but instantly feel guilt for it. Crafted words that aren’t formed by his won thoughts, but with help form Kim’s. Kim, who had constantly told Ron just how well the man was fitting into her family, trying to convince him that Monty had made progress. She had no idea that at the same token…she was sharpening a blade Ron was intending to use against him.

And it worked.

Monty is speechless, and whether that is due to the shock or the inability to sort out the storm of emotions inside of him, she can’t be sure.

“What is the meaning of this?!”

She’d never been so happy to hear her Nana’s voice, looking over to see her cane across Monty’s chest then. Monty…who now looks so incredibly angry…and… _hurt_. Ron had found a way under that armor. She realizes then that he’d done the very thing Monty had feared most. It pains her to watch him, and Ron as well who thinks that what he’s doing is protecting her and the rest of them.

“The monkey was just about to prove me right. Not that it would matter, he hasn’t been able to beat me before.” Ron is relentless in his attacks, driven by his hatred of the man and all that has conspired in the past six months.

Monty finally breaks his silence, but his words are no better. “ _Beating_ you is not at all what I had in mind.” A threat. A real one. A concerning one for Kim who had watched that man leave such thoughts behind for a time.

“Your boyish quarrel is exhausting. You want to fight so badly? Fine. If you both think it will solve for whatever issues you both are holding onto, then I’ll allow it. Right here. Tomorrow.”

“Nana, ** _no_**.” Kim finally steps in then at the ridiculous idea, standing between the two hot heads. “Fighting isn’t the way to solve this.”

“No Kim, it is. And _when_ I win, you have to leave. For good.” Ron states his winnings, his eyes glaring at Monkey Fist who takes a step closer.

Her grandmother interrupts quickly, “ ** _No_**. Now whether you like it or not, you are both servants of this monkey power and if you are to duel you will do it with honor. Kim, you know I’m not one to turn to violence to resolve such matters, but it’s what these fools want.” Kim exhales hopelessly, looking to them both who are both bursting at the seams with resentment. Is this what it has come to? Is this…all because of her? 

The woman looks back to them then, “And to win or lose is to do nothing but satisfy whatever it is you two are battling against within yourselves. I need not remind you that neither of you are residents here, and your duel should only serve to honor your hosts. Now, I suggest you both think on that before you dare show up here with any ill intent.”

Her grandmother lowers the cane, watching the two give each other one last stare before Monty makes his last statement while turning to leave. “I won’t make any _promises_.”

“Yeah well, neither will I!” Ron shouts after him, but the man leaves them without another word. And soon enough, Ron doesn’t stick around either.

“I can’t believe you.” Kim knocks him in the chest, disappointment shown on her face.

“Well you _will_ tomorrow, when I prove to you that the guy is the same Monkey Fist we’ve always known.” And Ron will hold onto that even as he turns his back and leaves just as well.

Kim stands on the platform and looks to her grandmother then, letting reality slowly set in. And the woman reads her well, stepping into her space and gently holding her arm to give some comfort.

“I think, my dear, you best prepare yourself.”


	14. Monkey Fist

“So…should we be worried?”

Kim’s parents both exchange a look before staring back at her grandmother who simply sighs and shrugs her shoulders.

“There are rules they’ll need to follow, but I suppose I can’t be sure that both will stick to them.” That doesn’t reassure anyone, but as ever they attempt to see the silver lining in it all.

“Well, Monty _has_ been working hard…and what better opponent than an old foe, right? Either way…we’ll make sure by the end of it that they’ve both got good food and people right there waiting for them.” Her dad grins, even if it is one of the weaker ones Kim has seen. Even her mother, who wants to be just as supportive, looks uneasy at the whole concept.

‘Old foe’ of course is laughable. Neither of her parents witnessed the clash of words between them, and both are so determined to support both that even if they had she’s not sure it would make a difference. But it seems to be all settled. Tomorrow during late noon, the two opponents will face each other. A ridiculous concept which Kim still doesn’t believe is happening. Angry at them both is exactly what she feels, but pretending that she is at all innocent in the outcome of it all helps temper her.

Monty walks in then after having withdrawn for most of the day. He doesn’t spare any of them a glance as he walks through the kitchen and collects an apple. No one addresses him either, as the cloak of solitude still hangs heavy over him. They all leave him be, besides Kim who excuses herself from the table and makes to beat the man to the basement door. And while she’s successful, she does somewhat fear just what he’ll have to say to her.

She can’t forget that _look_ on his face. One of utter surprise. A lack of preparedness from the man who is arguably always ready.

“Monty, can we talk?” His eyes look to her own, and it terrifies her to see that within them there is only.... _disappointment_. Not even that previous anger resides, and even that would be easier to deal with.

“Not now, Kim.” His voice is soft and heavy with exhaustion. She imagines that whatever he had spent his day doing surely beat out the anger and anything else left in him. Regardless, he’s never turned her down before... and to hear it for the first time is concerning and perhaps even humbling. But she won’t give up just yet, knowing that they can’t simply ignore what had happened earlier that day. What now waits for them in the _next_.

“Please? It’s important.” She sees that for a moment he considers it. But that consideration doesn’t last long, and he moves past her with a gentle exhale.

“Kim, I’m _tired_.” Her hands move to intercept him, her one last attempt at changing his mind. But the gentle palms upon his arm and stomach don’t do anything to help her case. They fall from him as he moves into the basement without another word.

It’s that very moment that she realizes... she _messed up_.

All of a sudden things are crashing down around her. Her problem had just tripled in size. The man she cares for, the one she’d been attached to for months, has suddenly and abruptly severed their connection. Kim stands there in a very real fear, pieces quickly falling together. This… _all_ of this could have been avoided. The fight, the wedge between her and Ron, and now what is cutting her off from Monty.

It’d be simple to agree with Ron, and to think that that not bringing the criminal into her home in the first place would have spared them all of this. And while that might just be true, she finds it hard to accept a timeline where Monty _wasn’t_ in it. Where he was left…or given over to a facility that may have realized the advantage they had with such severe injuries. And DNAmy…who didn’t look at all intent on letting the man escape.

No…no, she _knows_ she made the right choice. Bringing him here…to a family that cares more for him than anyone could have expected.

Was it her own curiosity? Her temptation to seek him out, to talk to him and find a ground where they could be complacent– was it that? Should she have just left it to her parents? Even her brothers? Taken herself out of the equation…completely?

As if that was ever going to happen. Monty reeled her in, and there was no fight against it. The two were magnetic, even if neither realized it.

So what was it? What had triggered all of this?

The question keeps her up through the night. The temptation to go into that basement is borderline _painful_. Monty has the answer, but won’t share it. Won’t even allow her near it…not yet, at least. She’s also convinced that if she did, if perhaps she finally gave him what they both wanted, she’d be able to set things right. But his cold shoulder was just that, and she lacked the confidence that she could slip right by it and ‘fix’ everything.

But, perhaps, her luck might be better with Ron who shows up to her house the next day with a fierce look in his eye. Kim walks him down to the dojo in relative silence, the two of them waiting in the calm just before the storm. She sits down with him, helpless in finding the right words to say. Not that she needs to, as he decides to break their silence first.

“Your parents…acting like this is some game. Some _happy_ event. Don’t they know what’s about to happen? That animal you’ve all been trusting is about to show you who he really is.”

Kim frowns at that, turning to look forward at the quiet clearing before them.

“He’s not an animal, Ron. He’s a person, just like you and me.” But her voice is even, no longer trying to convince Ron of what he refuses to believe or see.

“He’s _not_ like you and me.”

Kim sets her jaw at the response, taking a controlled breath in before she turns to her friend and makes her point as clear as she can.

“Ron, this might be hard for you to hear, but my family cares about him. **_I_** care about him.” That earns her a look, one of confusion and disbelief. “We all know there is no forgiving what he’s done, and no one is asking _you_ to do that. But you’re holding onto a version of him that for _us_ …just isn’t the reality anymore.”

He doesn’t respond, and she partly wonders if that’s a good thing. If maybe he’s finally thinking, and _truly_ considering her words.

“I don’t want to watch you fight him. Because no matter how it ends, it won’t be the outcome you want.”

“What makes you say that?” Ron looks away then, lips pressed and brows knit together. He’s thinking. She knows it. But she also knows that there is no changing his mind. The two are equally stubborn.

“Because I _know_ you, Ron.” She rises then, knowing if she says anymore she may just make things worse than they are. She plants the seed in his mind and lets him do with it as he pleases. “Just…be smart out there, okay?”

Smart is the only word she can think of to replace ‘careful’. Ron, who has come a long way in his own abilities, can fend for himself– of that she has no doubt. But there is no confusing just who is in more danger here based off of motivation alone. Monty hates Ron. Even now she sees all of the faces he’s made when the name has been dropped or even just inferred. She remembers his silence– his attempt to hold back thoughts running rampant in his mind. And the distractions she would provide…the careful steps she made herself take to avoid landing on a Monty-made mine.

Kim climbs the steps, still deep in thought as she walks back into the house and looks upon that basement door.

_‘Deep down all you’ll ever be is a selfish, isolated, freak of nature who can’t ever be_ _loved.’_

She cringes at those words. Words Ron would have never thought to throw at him if not for her. And that’s what it is…isn’t it? Kim had been handing Ron the very blades which had struck Monty, hadn’t she? The very idea of it sees her hand coming to her forehead, closing her eyes and wishing that wasn’t the truth.

But it _was_. Undeniably so.

It’s no wonder he didn’t want to speak to her. He _knows_ it. He knows just what she’s done. Does he hate her for it? _Resent_ her? Is there even a chance that he’ll hear her out? Or has she ruined it all? Had she done the same thing that only a couple of months ago he had done to her? _Tricked_ him? Made him _believe_ that he could trust her…that he could let her in to parts of his soul with no fear that she’d leave anymore scars.

The more she thinks about it the more guilt she feels. Kim can only imagine just what he’s thinking now. It’s surely nothing short of what she knows in her heart is the truth. And with his guard brought back up, she can only assume that the very parts of him he’d suppressed in favor of her and their bond are now at risk of breaking free. If not already.

And she can’t have that waiting for Ron.

It takes every ounce of courage to finally bring her feet forward. To head to that door and open it carefully. The air is chilled, her lungs stiff at the very thought of what waits for her at the bottom of the steps. A man or a monster. For she knows that right now they could not possibly be in balance, and at the very least she needs to be prepared for that.

Swallowing hard, she heads down into the basement. His figure is seen near the glass doors, but she can’t help but to observe the state of the place first as if it will give her any idea of what she’s about to walk into. No sign of his morning brew. There is a plate of breakfast on the coffee table but seemingly untouched. The bed isn’t made, and a lone pillow on the ground near it tells her that sleep might not have come easily that night. All signs that worry her further. Still, she descends and walks into the room, standing near the sofa where a hand reaches out to hold onto the back cushion. As if it would give her the support she needs to get out the words.

“I know you’re angry.” Her fingers twist into the fabric, her voice soft and careful. She’s not sure what to expect from the man who keeps his back to her. Pulling on a black gi– the very one that has sat folded and tucked away from him for months now. The one he had arrived in. The one that marked his very name: _Monkey Fist_. It scares her what it must mean for him to wear it again, and whether or not it does hold some significance after all that has now happened.

He, to no surprise, doesn’t speak just yet. And so she takes another breath, and a timid step forward. The silence kills her, and is for more menacing than any outburst he could have.

“You have every right to be. The things Ron said…they are so _far_ from the truth, Monty.” She sees him stop at that, his hands settling down at his sides. He turns to her then and a face void of anything but focus is what she sees. There is no getting him out of this, and she knows that deep in her heart. But she must try.

“Are they?” He asks her, not as though he doesn’t believe it…but rather he doesn’t believe _her_. Two simple words that strike right at her heart. There was no preparing for this, no knowing just what to expect. But seeing the man and hearing just what confirms her thoughts to be true is absolutely shattering.

“Do you _really_ not already know that?” Kim forgets all fear in that moment then, walking right up to him. Her hand slides inside of the open gi, resting her hand over the warmth of his stomach. Her free hand reaches up to collect his jaw, and for a moment she can see him there. See him _listening_. “He just wanted to hurt you, Monty.”

He’s not usually unreceptive to such intimate touches, but the most he gives her is a shallow breath when her hands find his skin. Partly convinced that they may just be the saving grace here, his next words very nearly kill that hope.

“Well, he was successful. And you let him be.”

Her eyes go wide at that. Her hands slowly come away from him, a shame beginning to creep over her shoulders. Even whilst knowing exactly what he means, it strikes her harder than she could have ever imagined. _Let_ him? Is that…really what she had done? She can hardly wrap her head around such an accusation. Only moments ago she had just come to terms with those words existing only because of her…but this?

“Monty…I–.”

“‘ _Let me help you protect him_.’ That is what you said to me. I suppose I’ve still not reached that threshold where that would apply though, have I?” Words uttered from her own lips are thrown at her then. One’s that she had meant _every_ syllable of. She’s horror-struck at what he’s alluding to. “What more will you have me do, Kimberly? What _exactly_ must I do to prove to you that I’m worth your offer?”

She wasn’t expecting this, and while she knows it isn’t an attack or attempt to make her feel the pain that he clearly does, she can’t help but to endure it all the same. Monty is calling her out on the one thing she assured him she could do. Convinced him to be a man she knows he can be with no fear of the very things that were thrown at him the day before. And that trust he had given her…was all in _vain_.

“It’s not like that, I–.”

“Are you waiting for me to reach _his_ tenure? To play along until you decide whether or not my effort is worth it? If so, then perhaps I should have been clear from the beginning: I never will reach _his_ level. I will never know of the relationship you two share, and I don’t **_care_** to. But I assure you this, my feelings and my loyalty to you are unwavering.” His voice deepens at that, and there is a look in his eye that makes certain his words are true. “I have given you all that I am capable of. But I’ve realized, it’s just not enough… _is_ it?”

He steps back and ties the gi, sitting on the arm of the sofa and looking out through the glass doors. He’d been thinking about this longer than a day, _that_ much is clear. And Kim finds herself speechless, angry at herself for being blind to something so…obvious. All she can do is watch him, trying to make sense of her own reality while now listening to his own.

“So. You still want to stand there and tell me that what he said was so far from the truth? And why I’ve no reason to believe that I’m… ‘ _unlovable’?_ ”

Kim shakes her head, both in denial and shame. She moves to him then and wraps her arms around his neck, pressing flush against him. Her hand cards through the hair at he back of his head, her other fisting into the thick material of his gi. She holds him close, holds him tight, all while fighting back tears that she knows she deserves.

To hear him say it… _destroys_ her.

“You aren’t. You _know_ that.” The breath inside of her burns, hurting at the very thought that in fear of her own hurt she had unknowingly pushed it on _him_ instead. That those thoughts and feelings he’s now settled with are because of her. Because of the lack of action and _honesty_.

His own hands are tempted to touch her. To embrace the form that warms his own. But all he can bring himself to do is ask the inevitable:

“Then why didn’t you tell him that?”

Both of their heads turn then. Kim resting her forehead to his, her hand sliding out of his hair and over the side of his cheek. She can practically taste him, and she knows in this moment that she _is_ ready. Ready to accept those lips. To do what she knows she should have done a long time ago. But a kiss won’t fix any of this, even if it would be easy to ignore those few inches between them.

Kim has him there, however. In a space that while he may not be responding to, he doesn’t seek to leave. There is still hope, she thinks. Still a chance to keep him there…to stop the ridiculous fight from happening.

“I was _scared_.” She imagines he’s tired of hearing that excuse. That **_the_** Kim Possible isn’t meant to ever be associated with fear. “ _Please_ , Monty. You don’t have to go out there. Please just…stay here. With me.”

And oh the request is _too_ enticing. Doesn’t she understand? He wants nothing more than to stay right there in that moment… _forever_. But he can’t. And he can’t help but see the request for what it is: a final attempt to save her friend.

“Even now…all you want is to protect him. You’re afraid of what I’ll go out there and **_do_**.” He rises then, and as painful as it is, he pulls away from her and reaches for his belt. “You’re not wrong about most things, Kimberly. I _have_ changed. And I have allowed you parts of me that I’ve granted no other.” He ties the belt around his waist, before turning back to look at her.

Hopeful eyes now filled with hurt and… _horror_.

“But I am **_Monkey Fist_**. I don’t back down from a fight. And with or without your _protection_ , I will make sure that those that seek to hurt me don’t get the chance to do it twice.”

And as much as it pains him to turn his back on Kim, he does so. Sliding the door open and stepping out to face his opponent waiting below.

Kim can’t hold it in any longer, the tears greeting her cheeks before her voice can even make the sound of a sob. She sits back on that sofa, hand covering her face as she tries to control herself. To put herself together after having just broken apart.

She hurt Ron.

She hurt Monty.

And now he’s going out there to punctuate his point. Her best friend is in the line of fire, all because she had left Monty holding that same target. It was all going to end in disaster…one that feels almost inevitable. It had been right in front of her the whole time, yet she elected to ignore it. Now she’s forced to make peace with that– something that seems impossible in that moment as she lets the tears fall freely.

Nothing could be done then. It all needed to play out. It was all she could do to cling on to the hope that what she’s said to both of them that day will not be ignored. And if by any miracle the two would both walk away from it having put aside their anger, there would still be more work to do. Work she’s more than willing to put in now, to win her best friend back…and to show Monty just how wrong those words said to him are.

To rid him of any doubt he had.

A pained breath is sucked in as she finally looks up, cheeks stained and eyes red. She’s afraid to go out there…to watch.

And as hard as it is, she works to clean herself up before it’s time to face the reality she’d created for herself.

——

There is no excitement felt within him as he makes his way down to the dojo. No anger. No…nothing. He feels empty, numb. **_Lost_**. He wonders if this is the self sabotage at play here…the one Kim had once pointed out to him. Making the wrong decisions, listening to parts of him that seek to ruin rather than guide him. It crosses his mind more than once on the way down whether or not he should turn back. If he should fall back into that embrace and stay with Kim.

Kim, who he had no doubt hurt once again. It wasn’t his intention, for how else could he possibly explain just what is going on in his mind? In his heart? But going to battle, fighting her best friend…that is the intent, isn’t it? To hurt him would be to hurt her. It is no doubt the wrong decision, and yet he continues his path.

He wonders if she understood him now. If she understood just how much he wanted her. How much he _needed_ her, even if it took him so long to admit that himself. Part of him wants to believe that winning the match might even make it unmistakable, but he’d be a fool to believe that winning would do anything good for him. They’d all _hate_ him. They’d all quickly see those true colors that perhaps they had blinded themselves to, just as the fool suggested.

Monty is so lost in thought that he doesn’t even realize that he’s arrived. That he stands at the foot of the ring now, with Ron at the other side of it looking determined as ever. Ron. The child who took away the one thing he wanted most…about to make that ** _two_**.

The anger sparks then, and the moment their eyes lock Monty steps onto the platform with a sudden rage deep in his chest. _He_ had taken _everything_ , with no price paid in return.

“I need not remind you two that the only purpose of this fight is to honor your hosts. Whatever quarrel the two of you have, let it end _here_. Tow win is simple, and _family friendly_. If your shoulders touch the ground, you lose. Your goal is to get your opponent onto their back.”

Monty hears the older woman, but _winning_ is no longer on his mind. He’s going to _hurt_ him. He’s going to do thrice what was done to him. He’s going to show him a pain he will never yet **_forget_**. And he will come out on top. Prove to Kimberly just how undeserving that imbecile is of her. But when he looks to where the family watch, she is nowhere to be found. That… does concern him slightly, and distracts him when the grandmother orders them to bow.

Snapping out of it, he does so before sliding into a stance.

The woman hardly utters the first syllable before the two fighters are charging at each other. Both fueled by anger and adrenaline. It still amazes Monty the power they both carry as he knows that his opponent has only scratched the surface of training within martial arts in comparison to him. Yet he still holds his own, and that is evident yet again as they battle it out.

Ron is careful and creative, knowing from past experience that Monkey Fist’s power comes from his strength and emotion, from his reach and the advantage of having two extra hands. And he’s certain that if his intent was to win, the man would find a way to do it– but it becomes evident that his strikes are in no way working to put him on the ground. They are looking to hurt him, not unlike their meetings before all of this.

Monty feeds into his rage, hardly giving himself a moment to think as all he is focused on is unleashing _pain_. He’s furthermore frustrated when his opponent blocks and dodges– runs and ducks. _Avoids_ him. There is only so much of that he can do, and so when he finally sees an opportunity that he can’t escape from, the man packs a kick right to his chest. Ron flies back, losing his footing and falling off of the dojo’s platform.

But he recovers well, still on his feet while holding the center of his chest. Monty doesn’t stop to let either of them break, and lunges right at him. He gets him into a lock, a dangerous one at that, which sees the knife edge of his forearm digging deep into Ron’s windpipe. It doesn’t last as long as he’d hoped, as his laser focus on choking him distracts from the heel striking down on his foot. A sharp pain that loosens his hold enough for Ron to escape and put space between them.

It’s only brief, as the two charge again. They both fight relentlessly, even if Monty continues to be on the attack. Blinded by the emotions boiling inside of him. It isn’t long until he finds another opportunity, one that sends Ron flying back into the weapons stand. Only on his feet still by the sheer support the stand gives him. But it’s that very moment where a shift is felt, and the look in brown iris’s are a testament to that. Ron pushes himself up, taking a bo staff along with him as he approaches Monty.

No more running away.

They fight. **_Truly_** fight.

And it’s a vicious thing, both opponents moving over the boards with purpose and unforgiving movements. Both landing strikes, but neither having the upper hand over the other. And while Ron simply endures it, Monty begins to lose his composure. His movements sloppier, but more violent. Nothing that can compare to what is then triggered by the strike of the staff that lands at his jaw.

 _That_ is what does it.

With a deep growl released from the depths of his chest, Monty slips into a blind rage. One that sees him invincible to the incoming attacks, and landing every opening he sees. Ron is tossed off the platform again, thrown into the garden of rocks he’d once tended to with care, struck and kicked from all directions. Monty is relentless. Drops of blood now stain his knuckles, and he can see that this sudden burst of violence is working in his favor. Ron is slowing down. Falling back into a defense stance, he does what he can to protect himself.

There is hope then. The motivation in which drives Monty forward shows no sign of faltering now. It won’t take long to claim his victory at this point. And once he wins, once her friend is on the ground with no will to rise again, Kim will **_finally_** see him for what he is.

 _Kim_. Oh, he hopes she is watching. Hopes that she will see just what he is willing to do to prove himself. And when piercing eyes take a chance to glance over…she _is_ there.

And just like that, the motivation is _gone_.

Kim, who watches with the same look on her face the night he had crept into her room. Who looked at him with horror because what she saw was a not a man, but a monster. A monster she _refused_ to submit to. And here he is, that same monster…seeking to punish someone she cares deeply for. It’s enough of a realization to see him pause, and it’s just long enough for Ron to take his chance to fight back.

Monty lets him, focusing on blocking and dodging attacks as he forces himself to think. To come out of his state of violence and settle into something else. Something that sees him reconsidering just what it is he’s doing in that dojo. Fighting…and for what? How could he have ever thought that besting Ron would _ever_ get him what he wants?

It won’t. And Kim’s words are heard in his head then, _‘self sabotage’_.

What is he **_doing?_**

No. **_No_**. He won’t allow this to play out…he won’t allow himself to ruin this. Winning…winning will do _nothing_. It will drive her away. It will serve only to stroke his ego but burn the rest of him in the process. He is tired of burning, tired of fighting for something that takes more than it gives.

Losing won’t guarantee him anything. But he knows that if Ron comes out of this victorious…and safe…Kim will be happy. Kim…her _family_ , the very ones who had healed him…helped him… _cared_ for him– their decisions to do so would not be for nothing.

And that is all he wants. To see her happy. To see her heart unscathed by the poison he has subjected her to in the past. To show that he appreciates everything that her and her family have done for him. Control… _obsession_ …he won’t bow to them today. He will break the chains that bind him to such a fate that he’s seen before… too many times now.

It will kill him to lose. To admit defeat yet ** _again_** , and to Ron no less. Ron, who has proved himself capable of keeping up despite their differences. There is no doubt in his mind that in his fit of anger, he would have won. Even now as he continues to fight there are evident chances he can take, but he refuses to do so. He could win, without further injury to her friend. He _knows_ he could. But it would prove nothing. The win would be a defeat in disguise.

And so when he sees another opening…sees just where he can end this match even without hurting his opponent, he allows himself to hesitate. He doesn’t take the chance, and instead forces his own mistake. Moving his foot just enough to get him off balance. Practically handing over the opportunity to Ron who at this point, doesn’t exactly need it.

He takes a deep breath and accepts what he knows will now come.

And in his moment of displaying weakness…of _fault_ …he feels stronger than ever. The strength of a decision made not on behalf of selfish needs, but on that of someone else. Someone he cares for more than himself.

He thinks in that moment that if nothing else, his mother would be proud. For once, he detaches himself from the very man who drove her away. Power…control… _obsession_ …words marked into him– the same words that marked his father. And he will be **_damned_** before he allows that comparison to find its breath anymore. Even if it means swallowing his pride and all that he thinks has protected him up until that moment.

Those thoughts remain true even as his back hits the boards beneath him, a slam that pulls the breath from his lungs. He feels the defeat wash over him along with the a cloud of dirt and dust. A wretched, invasive snake that coils his insides and easily crushes the shield welded by his ego.

It feels awful. **_All_** of it. But the choice was made.

Monkey Fist had lost. 


	15. Acceptance

He lays on the ground, stiff for a moment but not completely immobile. The hit was hard and takes a moment for his breath to return to him. And when it does, blue eyes focus upon the butt of the staff being pointed down at his face. The air settles around them both and it becomes clear for the two opponents and the spectators: the choice had been made.

He lost.

It is the grandmother who announces it, with what he thinks he hears as disappointment in her voice. Letting out a breath, he can feel the sudden suffocation of conflict within him. Deep down…he knows he did the right thing. Made the right move. But to what expense? He _was_ winning. Damn near close to ending this problem of his. The problem being the fool above him who laughs and celebrates… not for long before he’s doubling over in pain and exhaustion.

Finally Monty sits up, a little distraught as doubt is quick to rise within him. The question immediate in coming to his mind: had he really made the right choice? Lost to the bumbling fool for all to see. And for what?

_Her._

The very person he can’t bring himself to look at. Perhaps for fear of seeing that look upon her face still there. For having made the wrong decision, _again_. He had seemed so sure of it all just a few moments ago, and he supposes that this is simply part of the consequence: bruised pride and mind-racing self guessing.

He won. ** _He_** won. Was that… _really_ the right move to make? Had he foreseen all possible outcomes? Did he _miss_ something?

 _No_ , he decides. It wouldn’t be if he didn’t end this correctly. And so he gets to his feet, seeing his opponent look upon him with both subtle fear and expectation. But Monty simply places his feet together, and bows to him. Respect among two fighters, despite the throwing of that match that only he knows. Ron doesn’t know exactly how to respond, but does end up returning the bow, even if it _is_ in poor form. It ends there. He lets go, for now, of previous anger that he had stepped onto the platform with. And before he can even consider rethinking that, Monty turns quickly in an attempt to get some space and find some solitude. But a body stops him. The grandmother stands before him then, staring up into his eyes with heavy judgement.

“Come, Monty. Let’s have a whiskey.” She takes his arm and guides him off of the ring, leading him to the steps and back up towards the house. All while Kim and her family go to Ron, both to congratulate him and…make sure he’s okay. Monty refuses to watch as his heart his heavy with shame. Not all because he had lost, but because he had brought this upon them in the first place. He should have been stronger…should have never agreed to fight in the first place.

Alas, there was no taking that back.

It happened, and so now he lives in this new reality. Quietly being escorted to the deck where Monty is glad to rid himself of his belt and just slump into the outdoor loveseat. Kim’s grandmother leaves him for a moment to collect said whiskey and glasses, pouring them both a…generous amount. Neither have still exchanged a word as they sit in silence, both nursing the amber liquid. Its bitter taste relaxes him a bit, until he rests his head into his hand and closes his eyes. He thinks about what the woman in front of him had once told him. About energies…what anchors one to the other. He thinks about Kim, and how he had her right there…pressed against him…waiting for him to return the very gesture he’d been waiting for. And that fight…his loss of composure and then his change of mind. Was it already too late?

It’s not long before her parents head back into the house, finishing the prep work they’d done to make sure that the two fighters were fed well. And while Ron eagerly takes to it all, Monty has no interest. Complacent with his drink and company that allows him to sit in silence. They all know that he requires space; even the twins who are eager to speak with him. He can feel the sun beginning to dip in the sky– and by the time those strong beams hide behind the thick of trees, his glass is being refilled by the woman.

With a deep breath, he finally sits up and leans back. Monty allows himself to look through the doors where the family gathers. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. He knows they’re waiting for him, wanting him to join just as he always does. And perhaps he will…when the whiskey has found a way to drown out the conflict within his head and heart.

“You let him win.” The grandmother finally breaks her silence then, seeing Monty’s head snap in her direction. He is surprised to hear that. He hadn’t intended to make it at all obvious, but he supposes to that of a skilled warrior such as herself, it _is._ Monty’s not really sure how to respond. Pressing his lips together, it’s all he can do to divert his gaze and hold onto his silence. Not that avoiding the statement will do much more than confirm it. Besides, he’s learned that the woman doesn’t often need to pry to find the truth.

But to his relief, she doesn’t wait for a response that won’t come and instead shares her own thoughts.

“Maybe that’s for the best. I see it replayed in my head and I can’t help but wonder…how that match would have ended if you _hadn’t_.” His jaw sets, eyes lowering back to his drink. He knows how it would have ended. They _both_ do. He also knows that there wouldn’t be one person there at his side when it was all over to support what he had done.

“They say that one brings dishonor upon one’s opponent when not offering genuine effort. I _disagree_ , in this case. Monty, you _have_ brought honor to yourself and to this family. You should feel proud.” Months ago he would have cringed at such words. A foolish little bout in a backyard…it was nothing compared to the very real trials he had endured. But that was all without context. He _was_ fighting for something here, and to hear Kim’s grandmother confirm that both settles and disturbs him.

“Well, I don’t.” Monty finally responds in short before taking another long sip of the whiskey. His eyes follow her own then after having found them, looking through the glass doors again to see them all eating, drinking, smiling. But his eyes land on _her_. And that smile she wears is not authentic. It’s better than what he’d seen at the dojo, of course. What he’d seen in the basement before turning his back on her.

“Of course not.” The grandmother agrees. “Most things done out of love are the very things that end up hurting us the most.”

There is no hiding his shock at that. His eyes go wide and dart back to the woman who sits with a pleasant smile upon her face.

“Excuse me?” Monty asks, as if offended by what she’s suggesting.

“Oh please. I may be _old_ , boy, but I am not _blind_. You love my granddaughter. More than you _hate_ her friend.”

Monty scoffs at that. So blindsided by such a remark. One that isn’t necessarily… _untrue_. But she sounds so certain, as if what she states is ** _fact_**. Yes, he hated Ron. And yes, his decision _was_ made for Kim. But _love?_ Utter nonsense.

…Right?

Again, his silence tells all. He can’t bring himself to deny it, simply because he’d then need a way to define it. And how could he possibly do that? After everything they had gone through…what _possible_ way is there to accurately describe what they are and what they mean to one another?

“I see the way you look at her. And I know that you would do _anything_ for her. Even if it means losing to a great foe. She isn’t blind either, Monty. I don’t doubt that she knows the exact sacrifice you made for her.”

He supposes that…those words aren’t quite untrue either. Shameless in the looks they’ve both shared…and knowing that his decision in sacrificing his pride was only to protect the very heart he sought to never again hurt. The equation is there, and it never was going to escape the perception of her grandmother.

No matter what they call it, she knows. Why deny it? And more to his surprise she seems rather…accepting? Void of judgement or disgust, the two things he’d have expected and feared. But the woman, as always, continues to amaze him. Briefly he wonders just how different his life would be if it was _her_ training him from the very beginning. An honor, that would be.

Those words ultimately see him glancing back through the glass. His heart heavy, and his mind not much closer to knowing any peace. But the woman says no more and lets them enjoy silence once again.

——

By the time it’s all said and done, when Monty and her grandmother are gone and Ron is being congratulated by her parents, Kim continues to process what she’d just witnessed. Thinking she had missed the worst of it while cleaning her face and ridding herself of any sign of crying, she had walked down to see both of them neck and neck. More than once she was tempted to step in, both when Ron had tapped into something not even she could understand, and when Monty very obviously did the same– blinded by a sudden rage that not even she was wanting to step in front of.

But she didn’t need to. Somehow…without needing to step in and put an end to it all, Monty just…stopped. Of course, it wasn’t as evident as that– especially not to anyone else. But she saw it. She **_saw_** what he did. He looked at her…through heavy clouds of emotion he was no doubt trapped behind, and pulled out of it. There is no misconstruing it. No doubting that there was a choice made in that moment. He found a way out before he crossed the line. Practically stood upon it and decided at the last possible moment to step back.

And why?

Why after he had just declared his identity? After he had slipped form her hands and accused her of her own subtle betrayal. She wonders– is this _her_ second chance? Was his choice at all based on whatever the future had in store for them? Or was she simply desperate to reach for something that simply wasn’t there?

Even through such heavy thought all she can feel is relief. Monty, while clearly wounded by his choice was still there. Still Monty. Able to take back control from the side of him that had lead them down such twisted paths. And Ron. Ron was safe…fought valiantly and won despite the circumstance. She goes to him and offers genuine support and congratulations. Walking up with him and not without seeing Monty and her grandmother tend to drinks upon the deck. She will go to him later, but for now she knows what she needs to do.

They eat and get Ron cleaned up, making sure any pressing injuries are taken care of before they settle into a usual comfort. The twins are reenacting all that they’ve seen, excited by the bout on the behalf of both Monty and Ron. Her parents turn up some music to enjoy while they drink in the kitchen and make sure that mouths are being fed. She imagines they are equally as grateful for the turnout, as it was very close to being a situation not appropriate for celebration.

Kim lets Ron relax and get some food in his system before she finally turns to him requesting a moment alone. He agrees but the look on his face is obvious in that he knows how the conversation might go. If only he knew what exactly was coming.

They take a set on the front steps outside, looking out to the sunset that sets the sky ablaze with warm colors. As beautiful as it looks, she doesn’t allow the distraction and turns to look upon her best friend who sits beside her in silence. She’s somewhat glad he’s the one to speak first, as she still has yet to find the best way to articulate the words. To tell him what she should have told him…a long time ago.

“I know you want to say it, so why don’t you already?” Ron asks her, his voice sounding almost defeated. Kim raises a brow, genuinely uncertain what exactly he’s looking for in that moment. She doesn’t need to ask as he reads her face and gestures to nothing in particular before making himself clear. “He didn’t…go all _crazy_. Well, in the ** _end_**. Maybe I…see what you mean. Okay? But not _all_ of it. I still don’t like him. I still think he’s an _awful_ , **_horrible_** person. But…maybe you were right. _Just_ a little.”

Kim can’t help but smile softly at that, laughing slightly at his own attempt in getting thoughts out that she knows he doesn’t quite understand just yet. Her hand finds his then, giving is a strong squeeze before she shifts closer to him. He may not see things the way she does, or that her family does, but he seems to have swallowed his own pride. She gives him credit for that.

But it’s more than that. All of it is. Her distance from Ron and her determination to clear Monty’s name on behalf of what she’s known of him for half a year now. It’s so much more…and it’s time for Ron to know that.

“Ron…ever since he came here…I’ve grown really close to him. The two of us…we…we really care for each other.”

She swallows hard then, pulling back to look him in the eyes. It’s a strange thing to say, to openly acknowledge that Monty cares for her. But how could she any longer doubt that? It was clear as day. It was in his eyes every time he looked upon her. Every time their hands found one another’s. It was right there in front of her when he retreated from his former masters: that of power and obsession. And as certain as she is of those words…they still struggle to come to her.

“That thing I couldn’t tell you before…Ron…”

His hand pulls away from hers then, and the look in his eyes is exactly what she expects. She doesn’t need to say another word. And as much as it hurts her when he pulls away, she knows it’s the right thing to do. That whatever has just clicked in his head…he deserves to know it. To understand just what has been happening.

“ ** _Him?_** ”

He’s in shock, but there is no outburst. There’s nothing there that totally shuts her down except for the space he puts between their hands. She frowns and looks away, holding her knees and sighing softly. One word. One syllable. Something so little but…means so much. **_Him_**. Yes, him. Before, now, and perhaps even in the future…. _him_.

Silence is her answer. For what could possibly be said? It’s obvious at that point, and so she takes in a steady breath before she tries to piece the words together for them both.

“I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t… really understand it myself. But I knew how you’d react. I was so scared I would lose you if I told you. But lying to you…keeping my feelings secret…it’s what lead us all here in the first place.”

A long silence settles between them then. One she both appreciates and despises. Not knowing what he’s thinking but knowing that nothing might be better than what could possibly come now. At some point Ron starts shaking his head, seeing her shift her gaze back over to him. Expectant of what is to come. The end of a friendship. One she never considered she could ever lose.

“I **_don’t_** support it. I _never_ will. You’re making a huge mistake and I think you know that.” His eyes soften then after harsh words breach the air between them, folding his own knees and resting his chin upon them. “But you’re not going to lose me, Kim. I… know that our feelings are impossible to control…no matter what we do. And I _can’t_ be mad at you for that.”

That … ** _does_** surprise her. Sees her looking over with parted lips and wide eyes. In all but one moment Ron reconfirms what she feared while also taking an unexpected turn in the process. It’s not what she expects at all. And while she’s eager to jump at the realization that she won’t be losing her best friend, she’s careful.

“No. I can’t control it…and believe me, I’ve _tried_.” Kim admits then, not wanting to go into further detail. Not that she thinks Ron would ever be willing to listen to it. And she’s okay with that for now. He’s giving her more than she could have ever hoped in this moment.

“So …what happens now? You know…with _him?_ ” She exercises that caution again in not oversharing the answer to his question. Her hand rubbing at the back of her neck, still surprised that she’s even having the opportunity to consider it in the presence of Ron.

“I’m not sure. I think he’s…upset with me.” _Still_ upset with her. But she leaves that part out– not wanting to open any unnecessary doors. “It feels like I’ve become an expert in hurting the people I care about.”

Ron scoffs, and it almost hurts to hear it, but she thinks he has every right to feel the way he does. To say what he says as nothing will compare to what she feared would come from him.

“Yeah well… _again:_ I don’t support it. I won’t change my mind about how _awful_ he is. But…maybe…you should talk to him. Be **_honest_** …the way you’re being with me right now.”

It’s… good advice. One that swells her chest with a love for Ron that is undeniably chronic. She realizes how lucky she is in that moment, to have someone like him in her life. Even if the words don’t make it out, she makes a promise to him. Promises that no matter what, she will be there to support him just the same.

“You’re right. I should.” She admits softly with a shake to her voice, knowing that it may not come as easy as it is now.

She can’t even imagine going to him if this conversation with Ron had gone south. What courage would she have then? To be shot down by both of them…it would kill her. But that is for her to deal with, and that conversation with Monty? It will be hers to worry about. Nothing that needs to intrude the moment she shares with Ron on those steps. Which brings her to her next thought. A question that she hopes will bring them both closure on all that built up to this moment:

“What about us, Ron? What …happens after today?”

There’s no time wasted in answering that question. Something she’s eternally grateful for.

“You pick me up for school tomorrow, and **_you_** pay for breakfast.” Ron manages a soft smile, one that sees Kim break out into a larger one. She leans in to embrace him then, holding him there for a long while. They stay there in silence, enjoying what is left of the colors the sun shares with them. Ron heads home not soon after, sharing a goodbye and letting Kim go to face what she needs to. And no matter how it plays out, it brings her comfort that her friendship will remain.

It’s just enough to send her back inside. To take a breath and some time to herself before she decides to find Monty.

——

Some time passes before the grandmother rises and walks over to collect the bottle sitting in front of him. He doesn’t stop her, but does lean back to watch as she heads towards the door.

“You should eat now.” She advises over her shoulder. Monty knows she’s right and that there’s only so long he can avoid facing the music waiting for him inside. The sun is nearly set now, and he won’t allow himself to skulk in the shadows all night. He just…isn’t quite ready. And so he waves his hand before folding his arms and settling back into the seat.

“I’ll join in a moment. I’d really just…like to be alone.” Monty explains in a breath, seeing the woman simply shrug and nod her head towards the glass.

“Sure. I’ll let you try telling _her_ that.”

He looks up then, turning to see Kim stepping out to join them. With a set jaw, he looks away…not quite ready to address the words shared earlier. Words that moments ago felt so far away– now coming right back to him at full speed. Words that have no doubt hurt her again, perhaps for the _last_ time.

That one chance…gone. Just like that.

“Don’t go spending all night out here. There is a celebration to be had, no matter the result.” He knows those words are meant for him more than they are for Kim. He doesn’t respond, and instead tends to the last of his whiskey in hand. One that doesn’t stay within his hold for very long. Kim walks to sit beside him on the rattan sofa, gracefully taking the glass from his fingers and setting it out of reach. Ridding him of the _one_ distraction he has. The one thing that might save him from all that is to come.

What could he possibly say now? How could he explain what he’d just done? Would she even… _believe_ him? Or want to hear him out after the decision made in that basement? He forgets how to breathe in that moment as he scrambles to find the solution. To prepare himself for what he knows is coming. He can’t even look at her. Terrified that her face will give him her thoughts before she does.

Part of him clings to the hope that she will speak first. That she will set the tone for all of this, and to at least give him the chance to prepare for the inevitable…even if it’s not something he thinks he deserves. But nothing comes. She simply shares his space, letting the silence wrap around them both the same way the night’s chill does when the sun is nearly gone. Sitting upon the horizon and peeking at the two fo them through the small gaps of branches and leaves.

As hard as it is…he needs to say something. Needs to get it out. It won’t be pretty or perfect or anything he’d want himself…but it _needs_ to come. And so finally, he seeks to rid himself of the words trapped inside of him. Words that have been locked away for so long, they will surely be the key to unlock the very depths of him. To give way to his most vulnerable parts.

But he’ll hand it over to her, and hope that she can be trusted.

“I did it for _you_.” His voice is deep…rusty…a prelude that what is to come has not been known to his mouth before. He finally looks over to her then, seeing the attention on her features. The promise that she is listening. At the very least he will have that, and he doesn’t dare try to find anything else for fear of what it will be. “You know that, don’t you?”

Even though she doesn’t verbally answer, the answer is clear within her eyes. She knows, probably as much as her grandmother had offered. There is no doubt or question found among her face, which feeds him the little confidence he needs in that moment to further his thoughts.

“I did it for you, and you _alone_. Because… hurting you is worse than hurting _me_. And I assure you…this _pain_ …it’s everything I’ve fought against. This feeling right now,” he looks away from her then, his hand moving over his chest where ego sits bruised and shame runs havoc, “…is what I tried so hard to _avoid_.” He shakes his head and looks away from her. “And you will still choose him, won’t you? How can I blame you. You… _you_ were _crafted_ just for **_me…_** And him? For _you_. But such is life, isn’t it? Cruel. _Unfair_.”

The words come out uneven and butchered. A combination of emotions laced in every letter. None of which are untrue, no matter how poorly put together they are. Monty refocuses himself, desperate to stay on track before he latches on to any thought that could drag him down the wrong path.

“I made a sacrifice. And to anyone else, that may not be such a large feat… but for me? It was the most I could give you, Kimberly.” And it was. It was all he could think to do. Words, touches, and spaces shared only did so much for him up until that moment. They were never going to prove much of anything to her. At least, not what she was looking for from him. It was easy to hide the parts of him that hurt her, but when they came to seek their control once again it was up to him to either fight or submit.

Monty knows just how easy it would have been to let it all take its course just as it always had. Somehow he thinks that if anything… she knows that, too.

Blue eyes take another glance at her, finding green iris’s that watch him carefully. Reserved and patient as he ultimately bleeds for her.

“You were right about me.” His voice is softer then, as if he fears to hear the words himself. “I don’t see the sabotage until it’s too late. After it’s done its damage.” He looks forward again, sucking in his breath and thinking back to that moment. The moment he realized he was about to lose her. _Forever_. “There is so much I want to tell you. So much that I fear is far too late now.”

Another painful breath is taken, and for a moment he closes his eyes. He prepares himself for the next words to come…words that he’s not sure he quite understands just yet but knows they resinate within him either way. Words that can only be uttered with the truth of them shown in his gaze.

Monty looks at her, brows knit together as if pained in those last moments of holding onto the thought. Of the _truth_.

“You have taken so much residence in my heart that I struggle to see what is left. And when you are _gone_ …I fear there will be nothing.”

Silence falls between them, leaving that of the spring evening to sound around them. There’s nothing left to say. And while it does feel sweeter with the truth off of his chest, he can’t help but question whether or not he has once and for all..ruined everything. That very fear grips his chest and diverts his eyes away. Tempted to reach out for that drink but forcing restraint upon himself.

Her voice is finally heard then.

“Monty…” he will never tire of the way his name sounds on her tongue, but hearing it does pain him. Afraid of what is to follow. A warm hand is suddenly felt on his cheek, gently turning his head towards her. And just as he searches her eyes to find the answer before she can say it, she leans in and kisses him.

 ** _Kisses_** him.

Warm lips greet his own, gentle and intentional. There is no fear to be found in plump flesh that fit to his own. It’s a moment he’s waited for… _yearned_ for…one he thought he could no longer have. And the very shock that it brings him becomes an annoyance for his focus can’t simply be on the sweet taste he has yet to savor. His eyes only slide closed just as she pulls away, leaving him wanting even through his initial shock. But she doesn’t go far, sliding her hand to cup his neck and keeping their lips close.

“I’m not _going_ anywhere.”

Words breathed to him; a _promise_. One that tells him that he isn’t too late. That his sacrifice…it wasn’t for _nothing_. For here she is, after all that they have gone through, ready for more. And so is he. Without another word uttered they both close that small space together, a kiss far more attuned. One lead by the man who seeks out what he had missed the first time. Finding that taste, learning the shape of her lips, slow and steady.

He isn’t completely unaware that they are on display for her family to see, and so he reserves the urge to further the kiss which in that moment is just as it should be. The very thought sees him slow their lips to a stop, not without stealing another one for good measure, before he addresses the very thing that he’s certain may just kill the mood.

“They can see us, you know.” His voice is low, lips still hovering over her own even as he smirks a little, admittedly afraid to look over and see what reactions there will be. But Kim who is far too distracted with the man in front of her, simply smiles up at him.

“I know. I don’t care.” Her hand moves to sit on his jaw, her thumb sliding beneath his bottom lip, completely taken with the man and unafraid to show it. She moves to embrace him then, wrapping arms around his neck and fitting herself against him. His arms move around her in return, holding her close, tucking his face into her neck where he administers a gentle kiss.

It’s not what either of them expected, and what more could be said than what that kiss says itself?

Nothing. And so they simply exist in that moment, letting go of all else. Of previous words and actions– all of it forgotten just for now. Just to allow them the moment they had both been waiting for.

Inside, they all watch in silence. No one quite visibly surprised, aside from Kim’s father who stands there in utter confusion.

“Are we…. _okay_ with this?” He asks his wife, eyes still glued to the man and his daughter on the deck. Anne simply rests a hand on his shoulder and squeezes it, the grandmother chuckling and pouring herself another glass of the whiskey confiscated from Monty.

The twins both groan, Tim smacking a palm into his head as he walks by to grab more food. “Seriously? He couldn’t have done it sooner? I’m out 20 bucks now.”

“Hey- so am I.” Jim knocks his brother in the ribs. “I didn’t think it would happen at all. The girl is _picky_.”

Kim isn’t wanting to let him go, and while there is so much she could say on everything he’d just admitted…only one thought really dominates her mind.

“I wish I had done that sooner.” Kim confesses while enjoying the embrace of his arms, quietly feeling a little foolish for all of the chances she had passed up. The man hums in return, smiling against her before turning his head and kissing at her jaw.

“I was starting to think you simply enjoyed torturing me.” Monty teases, even if that statement is nothing too far from the truth. “I suppose that means we have a lot of catching up to do…”

Kim grins at that, turning to accept another kiss– knowing fully well that she won’t be getting sick of this any time soon. And with one last slow peck she leans back, resting a hand over his chest. She looks upon him, searching cerulean eyes and allowing herself just for a moment to look ahead. To see just what is in store for them from this point on. It relieves her that all that comes to mind are happier moments. Ones shared with the very people inside who care for the man just as much as she does.

“What are you thinking?” Monty’s voice pulls her out of those thoughts, and while she’d happily share with him just everything on her mind in that moment which is nothing less than a gush of emotion, she elects to smirk instead.

“That…we have a lot of explaining to do.”

He grins at that.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“Oh, _just_ me?”

“Well, _you_ kissed _me._ Surely they’ll see that I had no say in the matter. I was simply a pawn.” Kim pushes his chest playfully at that but it only pulls her back in to the shark who’s got its teeth bared happily.

“There’s nothing to explain until we go in there. And right now…I think I’m fine right where I am.” He doesn’t need to say much more than that. Kim slips her arms back around him, leaning close and waiting to be sucked back into the place his lips take her to.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

And right there, is exactly where they stay.

**THE END.**

**(Epilogue to follow)**


	16. Epilogue: Graduation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, it is indeed the end of this story. Writing this has been a trip, y’all. It’s also the first story I’ve ever finished??? So there’s that. Anyway, I appreciate all of you that took the time to read this. This is not the end for Kim and Monty here, as there is so much more I want to write for them (that will probably come in the form of one-shots). But here is the epilogue: set a month after last chapter’s events. It’s short and sweet and just a little choppy. Please enjoy!

Graduation.

A day she once feared would come too soon, and then not soon enough. It’s a relief to be handed her diploma, cheered by both friends and family who have been with her through the long journey. The ceremony does drag, and while she suffers along with her classmates through every wretched moment sitting beneath the blazing sun, she knows it will be worth it in the end. Worth it when she gets to return home and celebrate properly with the one person not in attendance.

Monty never was going to come to this. Even though he wasn’t asked, for obvious reasons, he made sure to list off to her the long stretch of inconveniences it would mean for him. The top one she now finds herself agreeing with, _melting_ on a football field. Not, of course, that he was still a criminal at large. That didn’t even _make_ his list. At the very least, he wouldn’t be confined to the basement during the celebration which does in some way make up for his absence at the ceremony.

It’s something she’s looking forward to, even on one of the most important days of her life. She didn’t get the chance to see him that morning, and while she’s got nothing to complain about considering he _is_ staying just a couple of floors beneath her, he’s still missed. After all…the previous weeks have done nothing but escalate their bond. It feels as if no amount of time together could possibly make up for the little amounts they are apart. The thought alone makes her want to knock her head into something. It’s almost shameful how hard she’s fallen for him, thinking it was _bad_ before.

 ** _Nothing_** could have prepared her for this.

It was only a week ago that the two had finally addressed it to her parents. All of them spending weeks tiptoeing around what had happened on the deck. It drove Monty insane. He was eager to get it out of the way– but how? Schedules kept conflicting, and more then that her father was a tad…withdrawn. Avoiding it, she thinks. Well, it’s confirmed when finally she coerces her mother into a dinner just for the four of them. The moment Monty mentions it she can see the grimace on her dad’s face. There was no hiding from it any longer.

But they speak, and it goes well. Well _enough_. The clearest memory of that conversation being the incredibly uncomfortable warning her dad gives about anything more than PG happening in his house. Something Monty assures him will be nothing to worry about– all while his hand hides beneath the table, sitting high on her thigh as a tease of what would follow that very night.

Nothing _anyone_ could label as PG.

It was out of the way and things started to fall back into what normal was for them all. A little more open in their affection for one another, but still reserved in the presence of others as to not unsettle anyone. A game for Monty, who was eager to see just what he could get away with while also appearing the perfect poster boy for her parents. It was amusing and a little concerning, but Kim made no complaints. It was all usually in _her_ favor, anyway.

The thought alone sees her flushing. It doesn’t matter how far from him she is, even in that moment, his hands and mouth are still felt upon her. A canvas for the master painter waiting for her at home. And as the ceremony ends she still isn’t quite free. Pictures are taken and conversations are had. When her family leaves to prepare for the guests they’ll be hosting in their home, Kim finds time to spend with Ron and Monique. Both who are in attendance, and one visibly unsettled at the idea of seeing Monty again.

Monique is at the very least intrigued. She has yet to meet him, but does love hearing his voice in the background when they’re on the phone. The request to be put on with him happens nearly every time, but Kim refuses. There’s no doubt her friend has an arsenal of questions ready for the man, something Kim has already warned him of. Nothing that could worry Monkey Fist, she thinks, but there’s no mistaking the subtle worry on his face when she mentions it. If anyone was to be worried, she was certain it would be herself. Not knowing how her friends and family would take the two of them. But she decides early on that’s it one worry that isn’t worth it. There’s nothing that that can disturb what has grown between them, and she doesn’t doubt that her parents, grandmother, and brothers will make sure of that as well.

The three of them stick around to say goodbye to those not in attendance, as well as school staff; all of which are very vocal in how they are unprepared to have her brothers as students. By the time they make it back to her house the street is lined with cars. Some familiar and some not. They’re all glad to rid themselves of cap and gown before heading into the house where the drinking has already began. Something she feels relieved for, as they are far too happy and distracted to draw any attention to them. They seek to head to Kim’s room first to clean up, both Monique and Kim changing while also fixing hair and makeup. Ron only sticking around for fear of bumping into the man without their... mediator.

She wonders how obvious it is that every detail she seeks to fix on her person is with only him in mind. Monique scoffing at her with folded arms answers that very question. “Girl, you look fine. Didn’t this guy see you as like- a monkey?”

“Probably liked you better that way.” Ron is quick to make the comment, seeing Kim send daggers his way.

“Ron.” She turns back to Monique then, a sheepish look in her eyes. “Well, yeah... but...” there is no ‘but’, really. Monty has made his attraction more than apparent, but she was never going to pass up the opportunity to really impress him. It’s nothing her and Monique hadn’t spoken about before, considering the very dress she wears was chosen with her help.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

They head back down, watching as Monique grabs Ron’s arm and drags him to where the liquor sits in the kitchen. Kim is only a few steps behind, thinking that a glass of something with certainly ease her nerves. But before she can catch up, a hand is wrapped around her wrist and tugging her backwards. She lets out a gasp, finding her back pressed against a wall with a towering frame that keeps her there.

Monty.

Her arms are quickly released from a controlling hold that finds her hidden in a room not being used by any of the guests. Large hands slide down to her waist, snaking around in a familiar hold that sees her begin to smile.

“You’ve got a queue of people wanting to see you.” He greets, leaning back a little to fully drink in the sight of her. His eyes are unforgiving, and she can’t help but to flush beneath his gaze. “I wanted to get to you _first_.”

But it’s hard to focus on those words when she takes in his own appearance. A dark blue suit not unlike the one worn on his birthday. A kimono-like jacket sits over it with a gold chain beneath his chest. He looks incredible. Her hands move to slide over the different fabrics of his front, grinning as her eyes finally meet his own.

“Who helped you with this?” Kim almost laughs at the offended look he gives her.

“I do have _some_ semblance of fashion.” He argues, feigning insult while allowing her to peel out of his arms so that she could observe him fully. “Your grandmother did help. Thought I should dress the part of…ah…how _did_ she say it? _Monkey Lord_ with a _civil_ touch.” Kim laughs at that, earning a smile from the man who is delighted by her joy.

“Well…I think you hit the nail on the head with that one. Still…” She steps back into his space, hands finding his own to guide them back to her. They need no further convincing to find the warmth of her form. “You look so handsome.”

Monty grins, a sinister thing that equally scares and excites her. He leans down touching their foreheads briefly, his voice low and intentionally deep, “And _you_ …” It’s sweet bliss when he kisses her– a sensation that while more familiar at this point, still sends a shiver down her spine. “Taste as good as you _look._ ”

The comment rewards him another kiss. One that is far more normal for the both of them. One of hunger and intent. It’s one she needs to be careful with, as Monty can and will easily drag them down a hole neither will return from. Not that she would hate that, but they are in a house now full of people who as he states, expect to see and speak with her. And so while their lips and tongues reacquaint themselves, she’s forced to place a hand at this chest. Gently pushing to break them apart. And he allows it, not without a displeased growl.

“I think I need to get to that line of people.” She admits, knowing that of them both– one has to be strong enough to stop them. But Monty isn’t as convinced now, his hand coming up to cup her chin.

“They can wait a little longer.” She grins into the kiss delivered, but her hand ultimately takes away the one at her chin, setting it down to her side where she slides her fingers between his own.

“So can you.” She challenges softly.

“Doubtful. We’ve still got a few loose ends to tie up, don’t we? Need I remind you what those are?” His free hand slides between her thighs then, the back of his knuckles slipping beneaththe fringe of her dress and tracing the inner flesh that comes dangerously close to its destination.

She stops him quickly, not without a sheepish grin and blush to greet her cheeks. “Monty…” she warns softly, hands now with some control over powerful wrists that briefly allow it. The look in his eyes is almost worse. A look that reminds her of recent conversations and recent…explorations. For just as their bond had escalated, so had their intimacy.

“ _Yes?_ ” She wants to hit him in that moment. Playing pretend, as if he isn’t trying to completely unravel her. It would be so easy to play into it. To play along with this game with no regret as she knows it will be rewarding. But she pulls it together, taking his hand properly.

“Come on. It’s just a couple of hours. You’ve got a few people who want to meet you.”

The face he makes at that sees her overly amused. She leads him around the corner and back near the stairs where they head to the kitchen. “I’ve met enough of your friends.”

“Just the one.”

“ _Exactly._ ” Kim shoots him a look at that, both sharing a grin. She pulls him down for one last kiss before she offers to fix him a drink. Knowing that if she doesn’t, he’ll find it himself. Of course, by the time she’s poured out his whiskey, she sees Monique already up in his face and asking him twenty one questions.

And as much as she’s tempted to go and intercept one of them, she walks over and lets it play out. Monty, out of much practice, turns on the charm to the best of his ability. Well, enough to keep Monique’s curiosity sated. His drink is handed off to him and Kim guides her friend away before either of them can ruin the delicate moment. They share a look, one that promises their separation won’t be long, but alas Kim does have a role to play for now. Making her way through the rooms to greet family and friends, answering the same questions and running out of ways to make it different for everyone.

Monty on the other hand tries his best to dodge anyone he can. It fails, for the most part, as there is an air of curiosity surrounding him. He’s grateful for the twins who seek him out eventually and drag him towards the living room where he is ‘forced’ into a card game. Not that he’ll complain– anything is just about better than socializing. And so he sticks with that for a while, tending to his drink and keeping his eyes peeled in between turns to keep an eye on Kim. The social butterfly.

The two do their own thing and while not together, they find some way to enjoy themselves among the chaos. It’s all she could have hoped for that evening, and finally when she sees a chance to slip away momentarily– she takes it. Taking note of the empty glass accompanying Monty, she stops in the kitchen first to get him a new one. Something he appreciates before she even makes it to the sofa. His game over then, and the twins having moved on to another victim, Monty happily accepts the new company.

“At the bottom of your queue already?” Kim sits down beside him, handing him over the new glass fixed for him. She lets out a long exhale, resting her head against the arm draped behind her.

“Close.” She turns to look at him, silently inviting him in for a kiss but the two know that won’t happen. Too many eyes on them. And as much of an inconvenience as it is, she accepts it.

“Sounds like _you_ need this more than I do.” He hands the drink back to her, but she smiles and shakes her head.

“I could never. I don’t even know why _you_ drink it.”

“Try it. It’ll take the edge off.”

“ _All_ of them?” They both share a smile, Kim reluctant but ultimately giving in to the drink.

“Not even the strongest one can do that. Go on. Drink up.” Kim feels the pressure of his gaze when she takes to his glass, letting the bitter liquid slide down her throat. She can’t stop the grimace on her face as she quickly hands it back to him. He grins at her reaction, laughing as she tries to settle with the taste.

“Oh it’s not **_so_** bad. Come on, _one_ more.”

“One has been more than enough.” But he doesn’t accept the drink back, intent for her to take that second pull.

“No no, _another_ , Kimberly. It’ll help. For later.”

That sees Kim’s brows lift a little. She sets the drink on her lap, turning to face him with brows drawn together.

“Later?”

“Later.” Monty confirms, a small smirk sitting on his lips.

“Do you know something I don’t, Lord Fiske?” She bites at her lip, wishing they were anywhere else in that moment. To behave and play this role in front of everyone is a struggle. They sit there and pretend that being so close and having to restrain themselves is easy.

She’d willfully drink this whiskey if it were from his own lips.

Kim sees his eyes shift for a moment, surveying the room before he leans in to whisper in her ear. “As if you _didn’t_ pick out this dress knowing I was going to peel you out of it.”

She flushes deeply at that, hating both the arrogance and... _truth_ of his statement. Of course her choice was due in part for how the man might react to it. And _of course_ Monique had not so subtly planted the idea in her head. **_And_** of course Monty and her had been working up to that moment, exploring each other and testing boundaries constantly. She trusts him. No matter how devilish he looks when he speaks upon it. And even if she knows that the man will do everything in his power to make it a good experience, the very concept of giving something so delicate to him does see her uneasy.

He reads that clearly.

His hand moves to her lap but sits palm up, an offering that she takes. Her hand sits in his and those strong fingers close around her own. Monty’s voice softens then, “How does that sound?” She lets out a gentle breath, leaning back into his arm and quietly thinking.

“Honestly?” She looks to his eyes, less menacing now. “Terrifying.”

Monty smirks at that, drawing her hand up and placing a gentle kiss over her knuckles while sharing a response hidden from anyone else. “I’ve undressed you _before_.”

She smiles, amused with the way he plays with their words while bringing down some tension strung within her. “That’s not exactly the scary part.” She admits with a grin. “It’s everything that comes _after_ that.”

“Because you think I’ll hurt you?”

“It’s more than that. It’s giving you something I can’t get back.”

“Sounds like something we’ve both done already.” Kim laughs, shaking her head at him. He isn’t wrong, no matter what it is he means. The shirts she refuses to give back to him, or the words he’s shared in private that have very much imprinted on her soul.

“Did you practice this in a mirror? Saying all of the right things...”

Monty grins, “I might have prepared to ease any worries you may have.”

Kim chews her lip as she stares at him. Her decision already made, and it had been made for quite sometime. If there’s anyone she knows she can trust, it’s the man beside her. And so she takes another long sip of the whiskey. That in itself is an answer alone.

“I think I’ll hold onto this.” Monty beams at that, careless as he leans in to kiss her. It’s a kiss with restraints, but a kiss nonetheless and in her book it’s a _win._

“If you’re going to give my granddaughter whiskey, it better be the good stuff.” Her Nana is heard behind them, approaching to sit next to Monty.

“Oh I assure you, I give her _nothing_ but the _best_.” Monty grins at the older woman who is visibly amused by the eye roll Kim responds with. He’s not entirely wrong, but it’s far too soon to be making such claims.

“I expect nothing less.” Her grandmother gives him a look at that, seeing Kim raise her brows and begin to rise.

“Come find me later.” Kim leans in to kiss his cheek, their hands lingering before she steps away and returns to the party.

Monty’s eyes linger on her briefly before he remembers the pair currently focused on him. Leaning back, he finds her grandmother’s gaze that is just as hard to read as it had ever been.

“She likes it.” He breaks the silence while gesturing to his outfit, smirking as he thinks back to their stop at the tailors. She returns the sentiment and waves her hand.

“Was there ever any doubt? Come. I need some fresh air.” Monty rises at the request before she does, offering his hand and walking her out to the deck where she sits in a seat and he stands nearby. He leans against the railing, staring out to the yard and the trees past it.

“You look happy, Monty.”

He smirks at the observation, turning to look at the grandmother over his shoulder. He turns around fully then, resting his back to the railing and folding his arms over his chest.

“I am.” He confirms, his gaze shifting through the glass doors in an attempt to spot the very girl who had made it possible.

“Well then, what’s your plan?”

“My plan?” Blue eyes are drawn away from his search and back to the woman.

“Surely you don’t plan on staying in that basement forever. Kim will leave to college soon, and I myself will be headed back home this weekend.”

That sees his brows furrow, turning fully to look up her with confusion.

“You’re… _leaving?_ ”

“ _Of course_ I’m leaving. My job here is done, for now. One might argue the same goes for _you_. So, what’s the plan?”

He hadn’t given it too much thought. Perhaps due to being overly caught up in Kim. Over the past month the two had consumed one another. Leaving them still in what feels like a dream land.

“Couldn’t wait until I was a few more glasses in to ask me?” He walks over to sit across from her, resting back in his seat with a heavy sigh. The joy feels as if it had been suddenly sucked out of him, not entirely prepared for the reality check. “There _is_ no plan.”

“Well I suppose to think of one you’d need to come out of that _honeymoon_ mindset of yours.” He makes a face at that and scowls, seeing the grandmother grin. “The reality is, as good as things feel right now- it _will_ change. And fast. Change like that could see you falling back into old ways.”

“Old ways?” An interesting choice in words. He’s not sure he has the heart to tell her that those ‘old ways’ don’t feel that way at all. Instead, he elects to say nothing else. Closing his eyes and wishing he hadn’t handed over his drink so fast to Kim.

“I wonder, Monty, how you might feel in joining me. It might not be as invigorating as working with _monkeys_ but, it could be a nice experience for you.”

Monty is surprised at the offer. He’d grown attached to the woman, and hearing that she plans to leave has left quite the mark on his heart within that moment. And with Kim planning to go off to school, he knows that he needs to do something. Needs to have a plan, one that leaves _all_ parties involved happy. But to believe that he could choose anything that would accomplish that would be foolish.

The conversation ends there, even if it does remain prevalent in his mind for the rest of the night. The grandmother doesn’t push him, and doesn’t need to. Monty will take his time and think carefully over the paths ahead of him.

For now, however, there is only one path to take.

———

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Later that night Monty stirs beneath the sheets, eyes landing on Kim who carefully removes herself from the arm keeping her at his side. Eyes trace the curves of her bare form, one he’d become far more familiar with that night. They had both been so patient, waiting for the party to end, for the clean up to finish, and for all other family members to go to bed before finding their way into his own. The taste of whiskey and _her_ still linger on his tongue, and he finds him self willing to do anything to keep it there. To keep **_her_** there. Within his reach so that he may relive the blissful moments shared under that moon.

Kim smirks and turns to look at him over her shoulder, the question seeing her insides twist from the tone that suggests she has no right to leave him so soon. Everything burns and aches from those hands and that mouth attached to the deep voice heard. Even out of his hold she can still feel the ghost of him upon her. The weight of him keeping her under the spell that is a hungry mouth and powerful hips. She thanks the darkness in that moment for hiding her blush as the memories are quick to return to her. Memories she won’t soon forget.

“Are _you_ going to explain to my parents why I’m naked in your bed?” She asks, about to lean down to collect her clothes when a strong arm wraps around her stomach and pulls her back to a broad chest.

“Gladly. And in _detail_ , if you’d like.” His mouth finds her shoulder, and while she wants to let out a laugh at his words, all she can manage is a quiet moan. Her hand moves to slide over his own, comfortably leaning back into him. “We _are_ due for seconds....”

She has to stop him at that, bringing his wandering hand back to her middle before it goes too far.

“Not tonight. I’m ...still sore.” She admits, almost ashamed to say it. But the man doesn’t push, and instead plants a gentle kiss to her neck.

“All the more reason for you to stay. I’ll take care of you.” She turns to him then, sliding her hand into his hair and leaning in to kiss his lips tenderly.

“I know. But we’re already pushing our luck with them. Please?” The request sees him exhale softly. How could he possibly say ‘no' to her?

“Fine. I’ll walk you up.”

Ever the gentleman. Even if getting dress proves to be difficult, considering his hands that seek to touch her as much as they can through the process. He simply pulls on his sweatpants, letting her take his hand to guide them up the steps. They succeed in making their way up to her bedroom undetected, Kim moving into her bed and grinning as Monty follows suit.

“You’re not safe here _either_ , you know.” She muses, even if she’s not quite ready to let him go just yet.

Monty still plants himself at her back, sliding an arm around her to keep her tucked against him. Her hand moves to find his own, tracing fingers over his knuckles before falling into the spaces between them. His chin rests over her shoulder, and in that moment she knows there is nowhere safer in the world than within his embrace.

“I’ll be gone before they suspect a thing.” He assures her, exhaling deeply as he settles at her back.

Kim enjoys this more with each passing moment, but something scratches at the back of her mind. Something she can’t shake even within her current state of ecstasy. She knows the longer she lays there and holds onto it, Monty will pry it out, and so she takes a breath and closes her eyes.

“There’s a lot we need to figure out, Monty.”

His grip tightens around her.

“I know.”

Silence falls between them for some time, before the man speaks again.

“I’m not ready to figure it out yet.”

His voice is soft. Honest. Kim appreciates it, bringing his hand up to her lips where she places them upon his palm

“I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by the very wonderful and talented NoelleAngelFyre


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